


Don't Come Closer

by siobhane



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Ambiguity, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Family, Grief/Mourning, Horror, Hostage Situations, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Neglect, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prisoner of War, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Suicide, Torture, Unrequited Love, mention of needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 190,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siobhane/pseuds/siobhane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Squall is taken prisoner by an unknown group of insurgents during a routine training exercise in Trabia. At home, Rinoa waits for word of Squall's fate. When he is declared dead, Rinoa must rely on friends and family to rebuild her life without Squall in it.</p><p>When Seifer overhears a suspicious conversation and Ellone's attempts to connect suggest Squall might be alive, they team up in search of answers and uncover something far scarier than either ever imagined.</p><p>COMPLETED!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: this story contains some ugly stuff. I've kept the violence as un-gratuitous as possible, but there are several points/events in the story that are extremely unpleasant. Please read the tags, as I have taken pains to ensure the major triggers, etc are called out ahead of time. Read at your own risk.

* * *

 

The cell was dark and damp, the only light a sliver of orange phosphorescence bleeding in from the crack under the door. More a dungeon than a jail, really. The tang of frost hung sharp and heavy in the air, and the water in the jug they left for him to drink was already forming a thin layer of ice on top. They provided water, but nothing else. No food, no protection from the cold, nothing but his wits and those were quickly dissolving along with the warmth the cold leeched from his bones.

His boots were wherever his jacket ended up. Without that shred of protection from the cold, he would succumb to the elements sooner rather than later. His thin, blood-stained t-shirt and battered, torn cargo pants did nothing to warm his flesh nor his bones. He couldn't feel his toes. His fingers flexed sluggishly and his fingernails were tinged with blue. Violent shivers passed through him, his body making a valiant effort to stay warm, but the warmth never came.

He would die here in this cell. Soon, if no one came to provide him with a meal and a blanket and a handful of potions to cure his injuries. The cold would creep up and drain the life out of him. If not the cold, then starvation. He estimated at least three days passed since he ate last, but maybe longer.

Both were lousy ways to go. Between the two, he preferred cold to starvation. The cold was bad, but hunger was worse. Already, hunger was an excruciating, gnawing ache in his gut. The thought of food made him want to scream, plead, _beg_  for something, just the smallest morsel to stave off the misery.

Screaming wouldn't help. No one could hear him down in this hell anyway, and he possessed no strength to give volume to his protests. He screamed himself hoarse the day before and his voice broke into a scratchy hiss when he called out.  No one could hear him, even if he tried.  

As desperate as he was for food and warmth, asking for either meant giving in. Giving in to what, he didn't know. He didn't know what they wanted with him. Even if he had answers, he couldn't give them.

Maybe, he would die of infection. The untreated wound on his leg was inflamed and starting to smell. When he moved it the wrong way, it would split open and bleed anew and soak through his cargo pants. If it went much longer, it would fester and he would begin to burn from the inside out.

Well, at least if fever took him, he wouldn't be cold anymore.

It was frustrating to be left without the tools he needed to survive. Out in the open, out there in the frigid mountains of Trabia, he could find a means to survive the punishing cold. He could find shelter and insulation, build a fire for warmth, hunt something to eat. He knew of a hundred different ways to survive the harsh conditions in the wild. Out there, he stood a chance. Here in this cell, he had nothing but his wits and a jug of water. Both supplies were dwindling.

Up in the corner, a large, spindly-legged spider wove an intricate web. The damn thing was lucky. No shortage of sustenance; it didn't feel the cold. All it had to do was wait and the meal would eventually find itself hapless and tangled in the silken strands of the spider's trap. He envied the spider its meal, but he swore, if it came near him, he would eat the fucking thing.

So, like the spider, he waited. Waited for someone to come. Waited for death. Waited for something to happen.

Sometimes, he took a sip from the plastic jug of water, but only when the pain of hunger twisted his guts into knots.  Sometimes, he slept to pass away the hours until something happened. Nothing ever did.  They abandoned him, left him here to die a slow and painful death.

He didn't know how long he'd been there. Days for sure, but how many? He slept fitfully, but he was also unsure of whether it was only for minutes or hours upon end. There was no daylight and no clock for reference. Just the silence and the spider in the corner and his own thoughts of death and escape and the wife and daughter waiting for him at home.

Did they miss him? Was she worried?

He thought about tearing apart the water jug once it was empty, to use as a means of ending this torment. There was no guarantee the plastic would be sharp enough, and the idea of sawing through skin and tissue seemed more painful and more trouble than it was worth.

Besides, he wanted to go on his own terms. Not from the cold or starvation or infection. He would go down fighting. A blade in his hand. Swinging until his heart stopped beating. No other death would suffice. Not for him.

* * *

_Hostage._

That was a word no wife ever wanted to hear. Not the wife of a civillian and not the wife of a SeeD. There was something so terrifying about it, something more terrifying than  _dead_ , because at least death was final. 

Across from her, Cid was speaking but not a word of it reached Rinoa's ears. Squall was missing in action, taken hostage, a prisoner of war.

Rinoa knew from the beginning this was a thing she might some day have to face, especially in the early days when Squall was gone six months of the year on missions, but as time went by, those missions were fewer and fewer until that fear was all but dead. For more than a year, the only missions Squall participated in were those of a diplomatic nature and to oversee the occasional field exam. He was home most nights by six and got weekends off.

This was supposed to be a short, two day training exercise. That was it. There was no threat, no real risk and nothing to worry about. Rinoa wasn't worried the morning he left and she didn't even think about it. Not until she looked at the clock on the day of his expected return and realized he was an hour late.

An hour that turned into two and then four and then a whole day while she waited for word that didn't come.

They'd been delayed. That was all they would say and now they were telling her Squall was a POW.

Prisoner of what war?

This was a time of peace as far as Rinoa knew. Then again, she was not in the loop as far as the goings on at Garden. She wasn't allowed to know unless it affected her directly. That angered her in the beginning, but she made her peace with it. Not knowing still kept her up at night, but there was no sense in being angry when there were things she didn't really want to know anyway.

Her whole body trembled at the thought of her husband held captive. Her mind went to the darkest places, imagining torture and pain and mistreatment at the hands of his captors. Hurting him. Making him scream. She squeezed her eyes shut as she thought of what they might do to him. What they _could_ do.

What Seifer did once upon a time.

Squall fought his way out of D-District like a champ. Seifer put him through hell and Squall never uttered a word of complaint. He'd been an exhausted, nauseous, half-broken mess, but he fought through it with shaking limbs and with a cold sweat on his brow, and never so much as a whimper.

Afterwards, once they were safe, he vomited twice and then passed out in the back seat of the vehicle before Rinoa could tend to his wounds. But he survived. He lived through it.

Now, Cid was being coy with the details. Talking around the subject. Repeating himself. Rinoa wanted answers and nothing Cid said answered her questions.

"Who? Who has him?"

"We don't know," Cid said.

"You don't know? How can you not know?"

Her voice sounded hysterical to her own ears. They all looked at her with pity, like they knew Squall was already a lost cause. A steady beat began in her ears and tears of anger swelled in the corners of her eyes.

"No one has made any demands for ransom," Quistis supplied. "Or claimed responsibility."

"Yeah, all's they sent was a video," Zell said. "Like like they beat the crap out of him."

"Zell!" Quistis cried. "I told you not to say anything."

Zell shrugged one shoulder and glared at Quistis.

"I didn't agree to keep quiet about it."

"Insubordination, Dincht," Quistis said. "You know this is classified."  

"Think I care?" Zell asked. "Y'all sent us on a suicide mission. At this point, I don't give a chocobo's ass if you fire me or not. The rest of us were lucky to make it back alive."

A freshly healed scar cut across Zell's forehead, from hairline to temple. Something cut him deep and left behind a permanent reminder of whatever it was they endured. It must have been bad. Zell's temper ran hot, but it was seldom directed at his friends unless they truly deserved it. For him to lose his temper with Quistis said a lot.

"I want to see it," Rinoa said. "The video. Right now."

"No," Quistis said. "It's not a good idea."

"I don't care. I want to see it."

"Rinoa, it's not in your best interest -"

"You don't get to decide what's in my best interest," Rinoa said. "I can handle it and I want to see it, right now."

Zell slid over to Rinoa's side and the polished leather squeaked against the fabric of his jeans.  He took hold of her hand while Quistis loaded a disk into the player and switched on the screen.

"Before you see it," Zell said, "Just remember: Squall's tough. Remember D-district. He can take it."

Rinoa looked at her friend carefully. Zell's eyes shone with tears and she wondered if watching it really _was_  a bad idea.

"But you're tough, too," Zell said. "You can handle it."

She wanted to say thanks, but could only give him a weak smile in gratitude.

A grainy and out-of-focus image filled the screen, shaky like the person holding the camera stood in the midst of an earthquake. All Rinoa could make out was a slumped figure on their knees, arms strung up toward the ceiling by chains. Her heart beat faster and the throb of suppressed magic heated her blood.

The focus sharpened and the captive was bathed in the glow of a flashlight beam. His eyes squeezed shut and he flinched like he'd been struck. His bare arms were dirty, his shirt spattered with dried blood.  His face was streaked with red, the blood still fresh and it flowed steadily from one nostril. Rinoa cried out at the sight of her husband so battered and bloodied and barely able to hold his head aloft.

_"...I'm not telling you shit."_

His voice was weak and unsteady. His lower lip and jaw trembled from either cold, anger, or pain. Or perhaps all three.

_"Tell us where she is and this will all be over."_

_"...she can't help you."_

_"Where is she?"_

_"Go fuck yourself."_

Flickers of electricity raced down the chains and into Squall's arms, into his head and torso. He shook violently and uncontrollably and Rinoa howled in rage and agony to match his growl of pain. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body thrashed convulsively for almost a minute.

Rinoa sobbed with both hands clamped over her mouth.  

Zell slipped an arm around her shoulders and Rinoa leaned into his side. She wanted to bury her face against him, to turn away from the horror of seeing her husband, her _Knight,_ in pain, but she couldn't look away. She needed to see this. She needed to know everything, even if it hurt.

Squall lifted his head to look directly at the camera. Dark strands of dirty, stringy, and matted hair dangled over his eyes and half-hid them from her view. Those same blue eyes had looked at her with wonder and anger and affection and frustration, but never with hatred or disgust.

That was what she saw in them now as he glared at the camera, and it chilled her to the bone. He looked like a man who lost his soul, a man without a heart, without remorse, and Rinoa wondered who was on the other side of that camera to make him so furious.

Beads of sweat rolled down his face and in the beam of the flashlight, they glistened gold, amber and vermilion where they mingled with blood.  He blinked and shook his hair from his eyes and the hatred melted to sorrow.  His lips trembled as he looked directly at the camera.  

_"Broccoli pie."_

The faintest smile crossed his lips and Rinoa's heart squeezed. She pressed her hands harder against her lips, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time.

Broccoli pie was an inside joke. Rinoa once baked a pot pie for dinner, but got distracted by a long-winded phone call from a sobbing Selphie and forgot to put any other ingredients in the pie shell except the broccoli. The result was _not_ edible. Squall found it so amusing, he laughed for hours afterward. Rinoa, annoyed by his laughter, smashed the offending pastry over Squall's head. Since then, broccoli pie was code for an epic screw-up, but sometimes, they said it to make the other laugh in the middle of an argument or to signal that something had gone too far. It usually worked.

That was the question now. Was Squall telling her he screwed up? Or was this way of saying he was okay? Rinoa wasn't sure. Either way, he knew she would see the video. He wouldn't have said it otherwise.

A club of some sorts smashed into the top of Squall's head and Rinoa screamed. Blood trickled down Squall's face and this time, she was forced to look away. She pressed her face into Zell's shoulder and she broke when Zell's other arm came up to hold her tighter.

"That's all there is," Zell said. "There's no more."

Rinoa tried to get a hold of herself. She tried to stop shaking but between the fury building inside her and her fear for Squall's life, she couldn't. Zell stroked her back and whispered things she didn't hear but panic pushed her to a state of near-hysteria.

"What are you doing about it?" she demanded, once she had found her voice again. "Tell me you're trying to find him."

"We don't know where to look," Quistis admitted.

"You don't know where to look, so you're not going to bother?"

Quistis, stricken by her accusation, turned her head away as though Rinoa had slapped her. Rinoa felt momentarily guilty, but her resolve for answers returned. She would not take no for an answer or allow Squall to be shuffled to the side in favor of someone else's agenda. If she had to pay SeeD to go get him, she would. Whatever the cost, she would find a way. And if that wasn't an option, she would move heaven and hell to find him herself.

"We sent a search party to Squall's last known location," Cid promised. "They haven't reported anything substantial back yet."

Quistis took a seat next to Rinoa and clasped the hand Zell was not holding.

"We're doing what we can," Quistis said. "Until they make their agenda known or tell us who they are, we don't have much to go on."

"That's not good enough," Rinoa said.

The only thing that would be good enough for her was for Squall to come home, safe and alive.

Why him?  He had a daughter at home waiting to see her father. A daughter who adored him. A daughter he loved more than anything else in the world. Not to mention a wife that missed his warmth and his touch and the smile he reserved only for her.

_Why?_

"We want him home, too," Quistis swore.

"How did this happen? It was just supposed to be some routine training thing, right?"

"It was supposed to be," Zell said snottily. "A joint training exercise with Trabia. Except _someone_ forgot to warn us about the radical insurgents or whatever the hell they were."

"We don't know what they were," Quistis said. "All we know is they attacked. Their force was much larger than ours. Somewhere in the midst of all of it, Squall was taken. He might have been the reason for the attack, for all we know."

"Put me on the Ragnarok, drop me off wherever they are and I'll make sure none of them ever see a sunrise again," Rinoa swore.

"I know you're upset, but you have to think of Ella," Quistis said. "It won't do her any good to have both of you gone right now."

"I can't just sit here..."

She couldn't. Rinoa wanted to do _something_ besides sit and wait.

"She's right," Zell said. "But, Rin, I promise you, we'll bring him home, one way or another."

Dead or alive. That's what Zell really meant. He didn't say it and he didn't need to. The words started spinning around in Rinoa's head like leaves on a brisk wind. The words got louder and louder and there was nothing she could do to block them out.

_Dead or alive. Dead or alive. Dead or alive._

They sounded like an unbalanced load of laundry in the washing machine, getting louder and louder as the misplaced clothing spun the machine further and further off balance until the whole house seemed to shake. It had a cadence to it, like a drum beat, like a blast of machine gun fire.

She put her hands to her head to block it out.

On her wrist, the Odine bangle she wore to protect the world from her magic shattered into a thousand pieces, glittering like faerie dust in the lamplight.


	2. Chapter 2

_...her fingers follow the lines of old scars, a map of his past, of their past, and she has scars of her own. Some from battle, some from a car accident as a child, but every single one is beautiful to him. They tell him who she is and remind him of how far they've come and of all the things they survived together._

_Fear is not what he feels now – he hasn't feared her touch in half a decade – and he was a fool to fear it in the first place. In the late afternoon sun, with colored light pouring through the stained glass rosette above, their bodies are tattooed blue and gold and red and green and the colors reflect in her dark, loving eyes. He was an idiot to be afraid of this – it is the best thing in his world, and he can't imagine living a life without her._

_When she smiles up at him, he smiles back without hesitation. Her dark hair is painted in violet and blue and he wants to remember this forever, to stay here in this strange little place that smells of raw cedar and dust and leather. This is their first real vacation together since their honeymoon, and Squall wishes it could always be this easy and relaxed._

" _I want windows like this," she murmurs as her eyes swim with color. "I want one in every room."_

_He nuzzles her neck and smiles against her jaw as her fingers twine through his hair. He doesn't agree or disagree. He knows her well enough to know she'll forget about it if this is a passing fancy, and he knows if it isn't, she'll make it happen, one way or another. That is one of many, many things about her that are as frustrating as they are endearing._

" _...I need to tell you something," she says._

_He raises his head to meet her eyes and senses the anxiety fluttering in her stomach.  She looks away and twists the Odine bangle on her wrist, cheeks flushed, eyes downcast._

" _What's wrong?"_

" _Nothing's really wrong," she says and bites her lip. "But... I'm pregnant."_

_He reels back from her and stares uncomprehending. He is unsure of how to feel about this or what he's supposed to say. They have talked about children and it is something he worried about since they got married, but not because he doesn't want them. He wants a family, more than he ever imagined he would, but he fears he will either be a terrible father, or that he will inadvertently repeat his father's path and leave them._

_The longer he says nothing, the more visibly upset she becomes and he knows it's because she thinks he's angry._

" _Are you sure?"_

" _Yeah," she says. "I'm sure, and don't you dare ask if it's yours."_

_That surprises a smile out of him. As if it was in doubt. But..._

" _Are you upset?" she asks...._

* * *

"I'm just emotional," Rinoa swore. "I'm  _not_ going to flip out."

Nobody wanted to listen to her. She tried to reassure everyone she was fine, and she  _was,_ but no one heard her.

Not even Zell took her at her word that she wasn't in the midst of a meltdown. Everyone looked at her as though she was about to tear apart the fabric of time and space when really, she just wanted to find a dark corner and cry her eyes out. Now, she was in the infirmary, subjected to Dr. Kadowaki's brusque but patient exam to ensure she was not going to go psycho and light Cid on fire for his attempt to shield her from the truth.

Even though,  _maybe_ , she wanted to. Just a little.

"Just a precaution," Dr. Kadowaki said. The woman held up a finger and instructed Rinoa to follow it. "Any headaches? Strange dreams?"

"Nothing," Rinoa said. "I've broken bangles before, you know."

"You have," Dr. Kadowaki agreed. "But you've never pulverized one into dust."

The doctor switched on a pen light and instructed Rinoa to look up a the ceiling, left, right and down. All of this was familiar to Rinoa. Because of what she was, she was required to submit to a thorough examination quarterly to prove to Cid, Squall, and the world at large that she wasn't about to become a dangerous psychopath. So far, it proved more a hassle than a precaution. Rinoa figured, if she was going to flip out, she would flip and no medical exam or magical device would be able predict or stop it.

Normal one minute, psychotic megalomaniac the next. Boom.

History was rife with Sorceresses that lived normal, boring lives until they didn't. The transcripts and lore of the past did not usually indicate whether a particular event made them crack. They were good women until they weren't. Few were named in history books as benevolent or generous or particularly kind. The majority were named tyrant and dictator and fascist. Cruel and sociopathic and terrifying. Rinoa wanted to believe she was not of their ilk, but there were too many that lived average, boring lives, then woke up one day with a taste for destruction.

Odine bangles were effective to a degree, but they were not fool-proof. They couldn't prevent her from turning if that was what her power dictated, but under normal conditions they kept it from overwhelming her. Wearing the bracelet, Rinoa's magical abilities were more akin to those of an experienced and junctioned SeeD and less likely to manifest in strange or scary ways.

She could cast magic if she wanted to, but she didn't need to anymore. Not often, anyway, unless it was to heal up Ella's skinned knees or something similar. Rinoa refrained from much else because doing so so left her with a sensation akin to an unsatisfied craving that would not go away. She described it once as wanting ice cream and being served boiled cabbage instead.

If she were honest, it was closer to not quite reaching climax, of being teased almost to the brink, and then having your lover roll over and start snoring. The aftermath was a frustration Rinoa did not like dealing with. The dissatisfaction could last for hours or days and it was cumulative. If she cast more than a handful of spells in a short period of time, the frustration would compound itself and she would grow agitated over small things or pace the house without direction.

A few times, Squall was forced to take her out into the plains, bangle free, to let loose on a few monsters to get it out of her system. Her anxiety infected him like poison, and a thorough display of over-powered magical attacks was the antidote. It was extremely effective, but sometimes scary. Sometimes, the amount and strength of magic she could cast unsettled both of them. Squall never needed to tell her how unnerving it was for him to watch her go nuts and blast everything that moved.

Previously, she broke two other bangles. The first was when she was in labor with Ella, the second when her grandfather passed away from a sudden stroke. A third shattered like shards of glass while she washed dishes, a defect rather than a sign she was about to come unhinged. A series of hairline cracks caused it to break, not magic. This one was the fourth, and as far as Rinoa was concerned, justified.  Definitely not a sign she was about to go all crazy tyrant and burn Garden to the ground.

"Your blood pressure is a little high," Dr. Kadowaki said as she slipped a heavy, inflatable cuff down Rinoa's arm. "But, under the circumstances, I don't think it's a concern."

Rinoa blinked back tears at the reminder of her circumstances. Squall was missing in action. A hostage.  _Circumstances_  seemed like a pretty way to dress up the terrible reality that her husband might not come home.

She was not going to cry in front of the doctor. Crying didn't help anything. It wouldn't bring Squall home and it wouldn't keep him safe. What she needed to do was find a way to Trabia. She could help, if they let her. Even if they didn't, she needed to go. Sitting around waiting for news was not Rinoa's style and it never would be. She could help. Take action, assist with the search...  _Something_. Anything but sit at home and wait.

"Pending the blood tests, everything checks out," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Just remember, staying in control means managing your emotions and staying calm -"

"My husband is missing," Rinoa said. "How am I supposed to be calm about that?"

"I can prescribe a tranquilizer for now," the doctor said. "A mild dose to take the edge off and help you sleep."

"I don't want it."

"Maybe not, but you need it, Rinoa," Dr. Kadowaki said gently. The older woman sat down and took her hands. "I know this is difficult. I know you're afraid and worried and I know from past experience, you tend to make less well thought-out decisions under stress. The tranquilizers will help manage both the magic and your worries."

That was a nice way of saying they were going to dope her up to keep her from making bad choices. They wanted to drug her to keep her out of the way. Drugged, she would be docile and complacent and less likely to get herself into trouble. She knew the score. They all thought she was impulsive and reckless and it was probably at Cid's request that she be given a daily dose of mild tranquilizer to keep her passive.

Rinoa didn't protest further. She would accept the prescription and then flush it down the toilet when she got home. No one needed to know she decided not to take them.

"And do me a favor," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Don't go running off to save him just yet. Let the search and rescue team do their jobs. If there's anything to find, they'll find it. You just have to trust they're doing everything they can. I know you want to help and be involved, but your job right now is to take care of yourself and your daughter. If for some reason, they don't find anything, perhaps an arrangement can be made. Until then, manage things here."

Rinoa looked away from Dr. Kadowaki. She planned to force her way into the search, one way or another. Dr. Kadowaki knew her better than she thought.

"I see the wheels turning in your head," the doctor said gently. "Just make sure you really think things through before doing something that might get both of you killed."

The doctor let go of her hand and got up to write in Rinoa's file. 

The doctor's advice was sound and rational. Two things Rinoa struggled with when those she cared about were in danger. Following her heart came natural and in the heat of the moment, she would always choose what her heart told her to do above what was reasonable or smart. Right now, her heart told her Squall needed her.

"Please call me if you start to experience anything unusual," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Nightmares, hallucinations, panic attacks, dizzy spells... Anything that isn't normal, please let me know. And, I'll be here if you just need to talk. You can call or visit any time."

"Sure," Rinoa agreed. "I'll do that."

"Go have a seat and I'll fill your prescription. Zell will drive you home."

"I'm perfectly capable of driving myself."

"It's just a precaution," Dr. Kadowaki assured her. "I know you're stronger than most people think you are, Rinoa. I never doubted that for a second." The older woman flashed an ironic smile. "Hell, you'd have to be to take on the likes of Squall Leonhart in a test of sheer stubbornness and actually win. So humor me, will you? Make an old lady feel like she's done her doctorly duty and stop fighting me on this."

When she put it that way, Rinoa couldn't argue back. Dr. Kadowaki was on her side. Her primary interest was in keeping Rinoa on the straight and narrow, healthy and out of trouble. There were no ulterior motives, just a doctor doing her job.

"Zell should be down in a few minutes," Dr. Kadowaki said.

"Probably getting lectured," Rinoa said. "He might have shared some classified information with me...." 

"If that boy could just learn to keep his mouth shut, he'd be a lot better off."

Rinoa doubted she would know as much as she did if Zell hadn't opened his mouth. She doubted they would have told her anything at all. Zell earned her gratitude for being honest enough to make sure she was not kept in the dark. Otherwise, Cid would gloss it over or leave out important details. Maybe Cid had everyone's best interests at heart, but he was not forthcoming with information when it mattered. Rinoa knew that from experience.

When Zell did arrive, he was less shame-faced than angry. To Rinoa, it looked like the man was spoiling for a fight and she wondered what was said  behind closed doors. He didn't say anything as she followed him down the hall to the garage but she could sense the anger rolling off him like waves on a turbulent sea.

Halfway home, Rinoa made him stop the car so she could throw up.

On her hands and knees outside the car door, she waited for the nausea to pass but it didn't. It came in waves of sickness that was all twisted up with the blind panic that hadn't left her since Cid had uttered the word  _hostage_. Zell wiped her face clean without batting an eye, let her collect herself, then helped her back into the car. There were no empty words of comfort or sympathy from Zell, just his quiet anger.

It was better he said nothing. Rinoa didn't want to hear lies or platitudes. Not from anyone.

She stepped inside the house to the familiar music of Ella's favorite movie coming from the family room. Ella watched the movie so often, she knew every word of dialogue and every note of music by heart, but that didn't stop her from wanting to watch it again and again and again. It should have been a comfort to hear something so normal but it wasn't. It made her think of how Squall patiently endured the movie countless times with Ella in his lap, even though it drove him crazy.

Over the music, Selphie's high, clear voice mingled with Ella's. They both sang the words with gusto, Selphie's enthusiasm for the silly song as great as Ella's. Rinoa dropped her purse in the hallway and kicked off her shoes before she went in to greet her daughter. She needed a minute before she could face Selphie or Ella.

Crying in front of Selphie wasn't a big deal. Hyne knew, she'd done it a thousand times over the years, but she didn't want Ella to see her lose it. No matter what, she needed to be strong for Ella and that meant  _no crying_. She could not behave as if her whole world was crumbling to pieces all around her, even if it was.

"I'll make you some tea," Zell said. "Maybe something stronger?"

"Please," Rinoa said.

Ella was in Selphie's lap, eyes fixed on the television, engaged and enraptured by the animation. Rinoa was momentarily distracted by the circle of rainbow colored light cast by the stained glass window on the back wall. The evening sun melted through it and flooded the room with a dazzling array of color that never failed to enchant her. She once wanted one in every room, but she was happy with just two. One in this room, the other in their bedroom. Squall found them for sale in Deling City and surprised her with them as an anniversary gift a year ago.

Hyne, how he loved her.

On the couch, a delighted Selphie clapped her hands as the Chocobo on screen raced up the hill to catch up with his friends.

"Stelly-belly," Rinoa said from the doorway. "You're watching this again?"

"Mommy!" Ella shrieked. She got to her feet and crossed the family room floor in a blur of pink and pale cream and inky black. Selphie let Ella wear her tutu, even though it was only supposed to be for ballet class. "It's Auntie Seffie's favorite movie too!"

"So I hear," Rinoa said. "Did you have fun with Aunt Selphie?"

"Yup. She knows all the words to  _Yellow is the Best Color_ ," Ella said. "Just like daddy!"

Rinoa didn't know whether to cry or smile about that. Did her stoic, serious husband sing with Ella while Rinoa was out of ear-shot? Squall would do something like that. She pictured him pushing aside his embarrassment for Ella's sake because it made Ella happy.

"Daddy sings with you?"

"All the time," Ella said.

Squall only sang for Rinoa once, after he drank too much at one of Zell's beach keggers. Alcohol brought out a combination of chattiness and good humor he lacked when sober, and he'd bellowed out, word for word, Julia Heartilly's most famous tune on their walk home...

_...Rinoa is not surprised to know he can't carry a tune, and that's funny, but it's even funnier that he doesn't care._

_"I should get you drunk more often," she says. "Drunk Squall is fun."_

_"Are you saying Sober Squall is boring?"_

_"Sober Squall has his merits," Rinoa says. "Plenty of them. It's just that Drunk Squall does things Sober Squall would never do."_

_"Such as?"_

_"Sober Squall would never, ever make out with me in public or do beer funnels with Zell, or fall off a bar stool," Rinoa says and teases his bottom lip with a fingertip. "And he would never, ever let all of Balamb know that he knows all the words to Eyes on Me at three in the morning."_

_"Sober Squall sounds boring," he slurs._

_"Some people think so."_

_"What about Drunk Rinoa?" he asks. "What does she think?"_

_"Drunk Rinoa wants to take Drunk Squall home and do some very naughty things to him."_

_A wide, toothy grin lights up his whole face and one eyebrow hitches skyward. He only smiles like this when he's drunk and Rinoa thinks he looks like an adorable little puppy. A dopey puppy, but cute just the same._

_The rest of the time, his smiles are reserved and rarely more than a closed lipped look of amusement. He has no idea how precious he is, or how endearing that big, funny smile is._

_Rinoa grabs hold of his belt and pulls him in for a kiss. If she dared do this to him sober, he would blush furiously and pull away like she hit him. Drunk, he kisses her back with enthusiasm and pushes her back against the wall beside the Junk Shop_....

The thought of what came after brought moisture to her eyes. She shook it off and returned her attention to her daughter.

It didn't help. She saw Squall's features in Ella's face, a miniature copy of Squall himself. His goofy, drunken smile was her everyday smile. Unlike her father, her smiles were not guarded or reserved only for moments when alcohol or weariness induced a lack of inhibition. Ella's smile was a dagger straight through Rinoa's heart.

"Where's daddy?" Ella asked.

"He's still at work, sweetie," Rinoa said.

She struggled to keep her voice from breaking as she lied to her daughter about Squall's whereabouts. It wasn't the lie that hurt, but the raw disappointment in Ella's face combined with the understanding that he could very well be in danger and no one wanted to let Rinoa help.

"You've got paint on your face, sweetie," Rinoa said. She stuck her thumb in her mouth to wet it and attempted to remove the purple streak from Ella's forehead. "Go wash it off, okay? And then we'll decide what we're having for dinner."

"Pizza!"

"We'll see," Rinoa said. "Go, wash. And put your tutu away. You know that's only for class."

"I wanted to show Selphie," Ella said. "I wanted her to see how pretty it is."

"Selphie's seen it a hundred times, kiddo," Rinoa reminded her. "Now go."

Ella skipped off toward the bathroom. Her pink tutu swished around her legs as her bare feet thudded across the carpet. Rinoa pressed a hand to her stomach and let out a heavy breath as her false front slipped away.

"Thanks for watching her, Selphie," she said. She switched off the movie and turned to her friend. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem at all," Selphie promised. "She's such a sweetheart."

"Yeah, for you," Rinoa said. "Don't let her fool you."

Ella  _was_  a sweet girl, but her stubborn streak ran a mile wide. She came by it honestly, as both her parents were pig-headed and tenacious in their own way. When Ella got something in her head, she was determined to do it and there was no changing her course once she was committed. That had an upside in that Ella loved to read and learn new things, and she would pursue information until she exhausted every source she could find. The downside was that it led to things like digging for dinosaur bones in the back yard. Rinoa once came home to find both Selphie and her daughter covered head to toe in dirt, surrounded by foot deep holes they dug with the gardening spade in search of fossils that wasn't there.

Selphie looked Rinoa over, and the  amusement in her eyes faded to concern.

"Oh, sweetie," Selphie said. "You look sick. What happened?"

Rinoa shook her head, unable to name the puppy. If she said it out loud or explained, it might make it real, a truth she might have to accept, and right now, that was too much.

From the kitchen came the whistle of the tea kettle, the clank of ceramic against ceramic and the bang of a cabinet door. Rinoa followed the sound. Selphie trailed behind and repeated her question, but Rinoa couldn't answer it. Not yet. Her throat ached and her mouth was dry and there was nothing she could say that would adequately explain any of this.

Zell not only made tea, he prepared sandwiches, too. Something about that made the tears Rinoa held back overflow and there wasn't a thing she could do to stop them. She wrapped her arms around her middle and bit her lip to stop herself, but the dam broke and the tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Aww, Rin," Zell murmured and wrapped her up in a tight hug. "Don't cry."

"Is this because I let Ella paint?" Selphie asked in a small voice. "We didn't mean to get it on the couch."

Rinoa couldn't care less about the couch. Any other day, any other time, she might be annoyed or even angry, but the couch did not matter. They could set it on fire for all Rinoa cared.

"Squall's been taken hostage," Zell supplied.

"What?!" Selphie cried. "What happened?"

"Don't know," Zell said.

Rinoa cried harder. Selphie joined the embrace and hugged Rinoa from behind, too tight to comfortably breathe, but as Selphie laid her head against Rinoa's back, it felt like the embrace was the only thing preventing her from splintering like her bangle had.

But she needed to keep it together. She could not afford to go to pieces.

She broke away as Ella bounded down the stairs and she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt as she turned from her friends to collect herself. Zell watched her carefully, no doubt monitoring her at Kadowaki's request for any sign she might flip. If he saw anything to be concerned about, he didn't say so, but the look didn't leave his face.

Ella flounced into the kitchen and threw her arms around Zell's legs.

"Hey there, bud," he greeted. "Want a sandwich? I've got peanut butter and jelly or ham and cheese."

"Jelly!"

"Good choice," he said. He put a diagonally cut sandwich on a paper plate and sat Ella down at the table. "Eat up, squirt. Want some juice?"

"Can I have the red kind?"

Rinoa should be the one doing this, not Zell. She should be the one pouring the juice and making the sandwiches, but she couldn't find it in herself to step in and do it. She owed Zell a great deal of thanks for thinking of it and handling things for her.

As if he could read her thoughts, Zell offered her a small smile and handed her a mug of tea.

"Don't sweat it," he said. He pushed a ham and cheese sandwich on a paper plate at her. "You'd do the same for me. Go, sit, eat."

"I'm not really hungry."

"Eat anyway," Zell said. "Can't be anything left in your stomach after you yacked in the ditch and you're gonna need your strength."

He was right. It wouldn't help Squall and it wouldn't do her any favors. There was a household and a business to run, a young daughter and a mess of bills to pay. She needed every store of energy she had to get through the days to come.

Rinoa picked at her sandwich and listened to Ella and Selphie chatter back and forth about a variety of topics but only half-listened. Ballet classes. Chocobos. Stickers. Glitter. It didn't matter. It helped distract Rinoa from the horrible and overwhelming fear inside her. If she wasn't careful, it would swallow her whole.

It wasn't until they were done eating and Ella was sent to the family room with a box of crayons and a handful of paper with instructions from Selphie to draw her a bunch of pictures that they could talk freely.

The meal did nothing to settle Rinoa's stomach, but the scent of the eucalyptus and lavender tea spiked with honey and rum took the edge off. She wrapped her hands around the cup and stared into it and wished this was a nightmare she would wake up from.

"What happened, Zell?" Rinoa finally asked. "You were there. Tell me how things went down."

Zell was reluctant to share any more information, but his face twisted into a scowl and he got up to throw away the paper plates.

"I shouldn't tell you," he said. "I got demoted for spilling the beans about the video, but... Hell, you deserve the truth."

* * *

Zell took the bottle of rum from the cabinet and set it on the table, then re-joined Rinoa and Selphie. Under the table, his knee bounced and his fingers drummed against the bottle. He was nearly as scared for Squall as Rinoa was. Squall was pretty much his best friend besides Rinoa and the thought of what the guy suffered chilled him to the bone.

Rinoa put on a brave face and tried to be tough, but Zell saw right through it and his heart went out to her. He owed her the truth, even if Cid didn't seem to think she deserved to hear it.

"This doesn't get back to Cid," Zell said. "I'll tell you what I know, but please don't tell him you heard it from me, okay?"

"Promise," Rinoa said.

"I never see Cid anymore, so your secret's safe with me," Selphie said.

Zell toyed with his hair for a moment and tugged on a strand that had fallen from his usual spiky up-do.  Where to begin? There wasn't all that much to tell, and he doubted there were any details that might help Rinoa search if she decided to take off, but it was better to tell her the truth. All of it.

"We were just going through drills," Zell finally said. "It wasn't anything special, you know? It was like, stuff from our cadet days. Formations and stuff. Squall and I both had teams, and we're running around out in the snow fighting monsters and stuff for a few hours. No big deal, right? Then, the wind picked up and the snow started to come down really hard. Couldn't see anything."

Zell poured a measure of rum into his empty tea cup and took a swallow.

One second, the day was clear but cold and the next they were right smack in the middle of a blizzard. Nobody could see anything through the heavy snowfall. The lack of visibility and the force of the arctic wind made it hard to fight and eventually, Squall called for an end to the training. The point of being there was not to see how much fun fighting monsters in driving snow was, but to reacquaint themselves and their teams with basic techniques, drills and formations. They agreed to meet about a half mile from Trabia Garden to regroup. Everyone arrived without incident.

"Then, out of nowhere, there are these guys all dressed in white, to blend in with the snow, I figure," Zell said. "They attacked and we fought, but there were like twelve of us and fifty of them. And they were good.  _Really_  good. They knew what they were doing, too. They split us up, made it so we couldn't see each other and could only communicate thorough our comm devices."

It was Rinoa's turn to help herself to a drink. Zell waited while she poured some into her tea cup and he watched his friend's weary, scared face as she struggled to keep it together. Zell worried that she might crack, but after a minute of close observation, he decided she was reasonably stressed and upset. Rinoa was a good person. There was nothing to fea from her, even if everyone else believed she would eventually become a monster.

They'd kept tabs on one another through the whole exercise, but once they split up, Squall stopped answering on the radio or calling out locations. Zell broke off from his group to go see what was up and Squall was nowhere to be seen. The snow fell so hard, Zell could barely see more than two feet in front of his face. Still, he fought through it and took the attackers down as they came, and searched the snow for Squall.

He remembered thinking of Rinoa then. What she might do if Squall died. How she might react to the news. He never imagined a POW scenario, even as he plowed his way through insurgents one at a time. If Squall wasn't answering his radio, Zell figured he was either hurt or dead.

Due to the limited visibility, Zell did not see the attacker that nearly chopped his head off until a second too late. A man with a huge sword came out of nowhere and aimed for Zell's neck. Zell ducked in time to avoid beheading, but the edge of the blade found purchase in his forehead. He didn't feel the pain at first, but blood ran in rivers down his face and left him temporarily blind in one eye. He couldn't see a damn thing between the blizzard and the blood, but he continued his search for Squall between fending off attacks.

As quickly as it began, the wind died and the snow stopped falling. Every last attacker was gone, as though they were never there in the first place. Zell, now dizzy and feeling the full effect of getting his head sliced open, continued his search to no avail. It was as though Squall vanished with the storm.

"So I'm about to pass out 'cause my head is killing me and I guess I lost a bunch of blood, but this Trabian guy calls me over and there's just a shitload of blood on the ground and... Squall's necklace."

He fished around in his pocket and retrieved a thick chain with the Griever emblem on it. He laid it on the table in front of Rinoa and her hands seized upon it like it was a lifeline. The chain was broken, but the necklace was otherwise intact. She clutched it to her chest and looked up at Zell with silent gratitude.

"He was injured?" she asked.

"Pretty bad from the looks of it," Zell said. "He was alive in the tape, though. Don't forget that."

Rinoa nodded and clasped the necklace to her chest.

"Anyway, I found out in debriefing these guys have been terrorizing half of Trabia and parts of northern Esthar for the last few months," Zell said. "Galbadia, too. Nobody knows who they are or what they want or why they'd want to take Squall."

"That kinda sounds like magic," Selphie said. "The way the blizzard happened."

Zell looked at their friend in surprise. It didn't occurred to him at the time, nor after, that it could be magic. Now that she pointed that out, it couldn't have been anything else. The blizzard only lasted the duration of the fight. He blinked at Selphie in surprise but nodded slowly.

"Could have been," he said. He got to his feet and retrieved his phone. "I need to call Cid."

* * *

Rinoa went through the motions for the rest of the evening. She put on a smile for Ella and helped her clean up the den while Selphie chattered on to keep things light. Rinoa appreciated her friends, and she appreciated the way both Selphie and Zell tried to lend a hand and distract her, but the worry crept in and hung on. A dozen or more times, Rinoa found herself on the verge of tears over some small reminder that Squall wasn't there. A photo. The spare gloves Ella kept stashed in her toy box. The Griever emblem in her pocket. It was difficult to keep it together.

"Rin, I've got to go," Selphie said regretfully a few hours later. "I need meet with Quistis at Garden. Probably a mission."

"It's fine," Rinoa said. "I'll be fine."

She sounded braver than she felt. Like she had everything covered when she really didn't.

A glance at the clock told her it was later than she expected and she'd forgotten all about closing down the store. She cursed under her breath and glanced at her daughter, who stifled a yawn as she colored quietly on the floor. It was way past bedtime and Rinoa didn't know what to do. She sat down on the couch, overwhelmed by her sudden helplessness. She was not helpless and she never had been, but the idea that Squall was not here to help manage their day-to-day activities sent her into a panic-spiral. What was she going to do?

Zell noticed. He sat down beside her as Selphie said her goodbyes and made a promise to come back in the morning if she was able. All Rinoa could do was nod her thanks and bite back her tears.

"Go do what you need to do, Rin," Zell said. "I'll put Ella to bed."

"I can't ask you to do that," she said.

"No biggie," he said. "Go take care of it. I don't mind."

Rinoa rose to her feet and slipped on her shoes as Zell plopped down on the floor beside her daughter. On any other night, at any other time, Squall would be here to take care of readying Ella for bed while Rinoa closed the store for the night. Squall never minded that responsibility. Spending time with his daughter was never a burden or an obligation to him. He looked forward to it, but he wasn't here and his absence tore a great, big hole through Rinoa's heart.

She didn't want to leave. She trusted Zell, and Ella adored him. It was the part where she was supposed to act like everything was fine. How was she supposed to pretend everything was business as usual when every instinct in her said to go and find Squall herself?

The reality was, she couldn't. It was less about being reckless and more about her own responsibilities – Ella, managing a home and a business. She could abandon the store, but there was still Ella to consider. It wasn't like she could take a five-year-old to Trabia, and it wouldn't be right to leave her with Selphie. Selphie wouldn't mind at all, but Rinoa knew that wasn't right. Ella came first, over and above even Squall.

As she stepped outside, Rinoa brushed away a tear and took a deep breath of the balmy, briny night air. It calmed her a little, even as it made her miss Squall more.

Two years ago, the souvenir shop next to the train station closed without warning. One evening, as Squall, Rinoa and Ella took a walk around the town as they often did on nice evenings, Rinoa remarked that the space would make a cute little bookstore. Balamb had a small newsstand that offered a pathetic rack of paperback bestsellers, but no real bookstore.

_...together, they peer into the small window at the empty space and Rinoa imagines racks full of all kinds of books and a small coffee bar that offers a selection of quality designer coffees. She pictures a small selection of postcards and trinkets of the sort that the souvenir shop once sold but less garish. The walls feature works from local artists and offer them a place to show and sell their art. She sees comfortable couches and chairs where travelers might pass the time while they wait for their train._

_As they stand there, Rinoa voices this thought to Squall, certain that he will  laugh or tell her it's a stupid idea, but he doesn't. He is intrigued and peppers her with questions about what kind of selection the store might carry, what hours it would  be open and what kind of staff she would need to run the place._

_She thinks his questions out of character as they walk away, and the subject doesn't come up again for almost two weeks. By that time, Rinoa has nearly forgotten about it, not out of lack of interest but because it seemes like one of her silly schemes that will only lead to disaster._

_When Squall comes home from work late one afternoon and dumps a pile of paper in front of her, Rinoa isn't sure what is happening or what any of it is. The words and graphs are gibberish to her._

_"I think we can make it work," he says. "I ran some figures, got some info on start up capital and a few recommendations from Laguna on a supply chain and I think we can do it. We'll be broke for a while, but... if we do it right, this could be our future."_

_"What are you talking about?" Rinoa asks, confused by the spreadsheets and numbers before her. "What is all this?"_

_"The souvenir shop," he says. "The space next door is available too. We could buy both and turn it into a real bookstore. There's interest, Rin. People in Balamb are ordering their books from Galbadia because there's no place in town to buy them. And you said it yourself, the lack of decent coffee is shameful."_

_"Are you kidding me?" she asks. "You really looked into this?"_

_"It's a good investment," he says. "I'm not going to be a SeeD forever."_

_"Wait... Are you admitting I actually had a good idea?"_

_"...whatever," he says with a hit of a smile. "So, what do you think?"_

_Rinoa, wide-eyed and full of excitement, can only nod. A second later, she tackles him and holds on, amazed by the way Squall shows his love for her. Maybe he doesn't say the things she wants to hear all the time, and maybe physical affection in public still makes him uncomfortable, but he proves himself with action. He never needs to say he loves her because he shows her over and over again with gestures, both small and monumental..._

Laguna invested half the start-up, and they'd gotten a loan for the rest. It took a lot of work and a lot of time to remodel, order and set up, but it was worth it. The finished product was something out of Rinoa's daydreams, and even better in reality. She loved everything about the place. 

Owning and running a business was harder than she thought it would be, and there were a few bumps in the road, but Squall helped her learn the financial management and accounting, something that was never Rinoa's forte. He proved himself a patient and thorough teacher and insisted that if she could add and subtract, she could do it.

He was right. After she got over her fear of numbers and learned how to enter everything in the computer, it was easy. The only thing she still struggled with was over or under ordering, and that was largely dependent on demand. It was hard to predict what would be a hit and what wouldn't, especially with new products or break-out best sellers. She did her best, and with Squall's patient guidance, they were finally on their way to making a profit.

The store was only eight blocks from their house, but it might as well have been miles. Rinoa was not in the right frame of mind to focus on what needed to be done, but she forced herself to think about what was important.

Inside, the store was cozy and smelled of coffee beans and books. A single tourist stood at the counter to pay for his purchases as Rinoa greeted her part-time clerk, Lance.

"Hey, Mrs. Leonhart," he said. "I was starting to worry."

"It's been a rough day," she said. "Any problems?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Lance said. "Had to chase Rascal and his little minions out again. Pretty sure they're shoplifting candy bars or something."

"Hmm," Rinoa said. "I'll talk to his mother."

"Good luck with that," Lance said.

Rascal was an ornery little kid when Rinoa first met him during the war, but he wasn't a delinquent. Now that he was eighteen, he thought he could do whatever he wanted, and his mother let him. She didn't think he was a bad kid, but with no one to enforce rules or expect him to behave, he'd become the bane of shop owners all over town for his penchant for petty mischief and theft. 

At least it was only candy bars and not expensive and rare hardback books. Still, it was a problem, and she intended to put a stop to it. Maybe next time she saw him, she'd scare the daylights out of him by giving him a demonstration of what fate awaited him if she caught him. Maybe, she'd turn him into a toad for a few days. Or make tentacles grow out of his head. That would serve him right. Maybe more than a stay in jail or a sound thrashing from his mother.

In her office, she booted up the computer and set the timer on the safe. It was ten minutes to close so she returned to the front and waited at the door. She said goodnight to the tourist as he left with his purchases and spent a few minutes to put the rack of magazines back in order. Behind the counter, Lance was hard at work cleaning up the coffee bar.

Of her five employees, Lance was the best of them. He was a good kid and paid attention to the details. He was never late, never called in sick and never complained about anything. Maybe, for the time being, she could train him to close the store on his own, at least, until Squall was back.

If he came back.

That unexpected and painful thought brought tears to her eyes and she turned away from Lance to face the street beyond the window. Squall would come back. She had to believe he would. She had to believe he would be fine, no matter how scary and awful the situation he was in.

When the clock struck ten, she closed and locked the door and returned to the office as Lance moved out to the floor to shelve the books scattered about the store. She did the nightly count and the paperwork in a daze and came up short 20 Gil each time. She frowned at the pile of coins and paper money before her and counted again with the same result. It wasn't the first time they'd come up a few Gil short and she checked the schedule to remind herself which employees worked that day. She opened with Dana, a widowed mother of two. Chastity was the mid-day cashier, and Lance closed. She made a note of that in her ledger and looked to see when the two women would be working again so she could discuss it.

Twenty Gil wasn't much, but it added up. She hoped it was just carelessness and not theft. Rinoa could forgive a mistake, but not someone stealing food from Ella's mouth.

"All done, Mrs. Leonhart," Lance said behind her. "Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"Not that I can think of," she said and turned to face him. "Would you be interested in a temporary to permanent promotion?"

Lance blinked at her and ran a hand over his ample belly.

"Yeah," he said. "I'd be interested."

"Great," Rinoa said. "Come have a seat and I'll show you some of the closing stuff."

It was a good distraction  from her worries. Lance was good with computers and picked up the electronic procedure quickly. He even took notes, which Rinoa liked, and it gave her some confidence that he would do fine on his own after a few nights of training.

An hour later, Rinoa headed back home and that heavy, painful ache was back. She entered the house to find Ella asleep in Zell's lap on the couch.

"She wanted to wait for you," Zell said. "I probably shoulda put her to bed, but..."

"It's okay," Rinoa said, glad that he hadn't.

Zell lifted the sleeping girl and followed Rinoa upstairs where he placed Ella in her princess bed. Rinoa covered her and kissed her forehead and made sure she had her favorite stuffed monkey tucked in beside her and that the night-light was in working order before she returned to the hall. She stood in the doorway to watch her daughter sleep.

"What am I gonna do, Zell?" she asked. "What do I do if he doesn't come home?"

Zell dropped a hand to her shoulder and squeezed.

"Don't lose hope, Rin," he said. "He'll come home."

Zell sounded as if he truly believed that, and Rinoa wanted to believe too.

But...

What if he didn't?


	3. Chapter 3

… _Stella Raine Leonhart is born on a Tuesday afternoon. She comes into the world screaming and covered in goo, but Squall has never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He is terrified and elated and heart-sick all at once. He has to sit for a minute to catch his breath._

_He drops his head to his wife's shoulder and breathes in the soft perfume of her shampoo and the not-unpleasant tang of sweat as his fingers lace through hers. He feels a thousand different things and can express none of them, so he squeezes her hand and nuzzles her shoulder wordlessly as the baby is cleaned and swaddled._

_She understands. Words have never come easy, but they've never been harder than they are now..._

A trickle at first, then a waterfall.

Icy cold water filled Squall's nostrils as he breathed in and came awake with a start. He coughed and thrashed against it, but he was tightly bound, his arms behind his back and his ankles secured somewhere above him. Pain flared in his leg and he gasped, inhaled a mouthful of water, and gagged on it.

It tasted of the sea, briny and metallic and it burned his chapped lips and his raw throat.

_...Stella stops crying the moment the nurse deposits her into his arms. He is speechless as he looks down at his daughter's face and cradles her in his arms for the first time. She is so small and fragile, too tiny to be real. Ten perfect fingers, ten perfect toes, perfect rosebud mouth and a head full of dark hair, like a little doll._

_She is beautiful and he can scarcely believe she belongs to him. All those things he believed ridiculous and sappy before are now fact. He has taken lives, but now he has created one, and it is nothing short of a miracle. She is perfect in his eyes. Perfect, and in the space of a heartbeat, he is head over heels in love. He never knew he would love her so quickly or with such complete devotion..._

Drowning.

He coughed and sputtered as he tried to expel the water from his lungs, but it was replaced by more. In his chest, his heart raced, panic set in.

He was trained for this. Trained to endure this kind of torture. S ixteen, a year away from things that would alter his life forever, a year from things far worse than this. A year from finding all the pieces missing from his life. Sixteen, and he learned all the ways someone could hurt, and how to survive it.

_...on the bed, Rinoa's eyes glitter with unshed tears, her tired face soft and brimming with love as she watches him brush a finger over Stella's cheek..._

When it relented, his head was clear. Hunger gnawed at his guts, but the pain in his leg was far worse.

He spat out the last of the sea water and gasped for breath. Hands swept over his bare skin and tested the bindings around his hands and ankles.

He couldn't see anything for the blinding light directed into his eyes but there were at least two people in the room with him. A pair of hands cradled his head and stroked wet strands of hair from his cheeks, but they were not Rinoa's. A gentle, loving touch, soft breath against his ear. Not Rinoa.

"This can all go away," a woman whispered. "It can all stop, just tell us where to find her."

"Leonhart, Squall, SeeD Rank A, Balamb Garden Commander," he hissed through clenched teeth. "ID number -"

Claws dug into his scalp and his words were cut off by the hard, painful collision of an open palm against his cheek.

"ID number 41269," he ground out.

"We can do worse, you know," the woman said. "Think of your wife and child, Leonhart. You don't want to go home to them in pieces."

… _.and he makes Stella a silent promise to be there, to be a good father, to love her unconditionally and to give her all the things he never got as a child..._

* * *

Rinoa didn't want to go to sleep.

Zell sat beside her on the couch and tried to convince her to go to bed, but every time he suggested it, she shook her head and changed the channel on the television.

"Come on, Rin," he said. "Why don't you take one of the tranquilizers Dr. K gave you? You really need some rest."

"Can't," she said absently. "Ella."

"I'll stay," he said. "In case Ella wakes up or you need me or something happens, okay?"

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You don't have to ask, Rin," he said. "That's what friends do. They come over when things suck and they hold your hair when you puke, and they pick up the pieces when everything goes to shit. Part of the job description."

Rinoa got up, went to the kitchen and returned with the bottle of tranquilizers. She set them on the coffee table, stared at them, and wrung her hands together. On her wrist, a thread of electricity wound around the Odine bangle, sinuous and serpent-like against the metal.

Zell picked the bottle up and opened it. He shook a single tablet into her palm and passed his unopened bottle of water to her.

"Half dose," he said. "Just to help you sleep."

She swallowed it down and chased it with a few sips of water, then dropped her head into her hands. So far, she hadn't cried the way Zell expected her to. There were tears, but not the gut-wrenching sobs Zell expected. She was too quiet and way too calm.

The tranquilizer hit her fast. In minutes, her eyes drooped and the tightness around her mouth relaxed. Zell helped her up off the couch, and upstairs to her room.

Inside, all the little mementos of her life with Squall lined the surfaces of dressers and bookshelves. There were dozens of photographs in frames, on the walls and on the mantle above a small fireplace. On the back of the closet door, Squall's dress uniform hung, pressed and ready, waiting for Squall to return.

Zell turned down the blankets and guided Rinoa to the bed. Fat tears slid from the corners of her eyes and Zell brushed them away as he uttered another promise that Squall would come home. Rinoa nodded her agreement with dull eyes and slumped over into the pillow.

"Get some sleep," he said as he pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. "I'll be in the guest room if you need me."

"m'kay," she murmured. "Night."

Zell wandered the house for a while, checked the locks on the doors, then cleaned the kitchen for lack of anything better to do. Then, he wandered some more to wind down.

Everywhere were reminders of how happy they were together. Photographs of their wedding. Of Squall with Stella. Of the three of them at the beach. Photos of friends, of family vacations. They all told the story of a happy couple, two people who found one another amidst chaos and had built themselves a brighter future than either had expected.

Someday, Zell hoped for something like this for himself. A home. A family. A beautiful life outside the walls of Garden. Someone to go home to at the end of a long day or a tough mission.

Zell quietly envied them for years. He envied what they had and how they related to one another. Every one of his past relationships was ultimately compared to theirs, and found wanting. In his head, it was the gold standard in terms of what a relationship should be. Maybe that wasn't healthy, but the two of them made the fairy-tale ending seem attainable. Zell wanted his other half, the Rinoa to his Squall. So far, he hadn't found her.

As he turned in for the night, Zell vowed that if Squall didn't come back, he would make sure Rinoa and Ella were taken care of. That was his duty as a best friend, to ensure that whatever happened, they were not alone.

* * *

Rinoa woke up groggy and confused and she reached for Squall, craving the feel of his arms around her and the comfort they gave her. Her hand found his pillow and she cracked open an eye. His side of the bed was empty and still partially made.

Gone. He was gone.

As she sat up, her head swam and her stomach rolled. She was on her feet in an instant and she lurched for the bathroom as a wave of sickness washed over her. She barely made it to the toilet before the contents of her stomach spilled violently into the bowl.

Half retching, and half sobbing, she folded her arms over the porcelain rim and waited for the rest to come up.

"Rin? You okay?" Zell asked from the door.

Rinoa could only shake her head no. She had no words and no voice and if she moved, she was going to be sick again.

"I didn't mean for you to take me seriously," Zell said as he crouched down beside her and swept her hair away from her face.  He held it in his fist as she vomited again.

"Tranquilizers," she muttered and spat into the bowl. "Alcohol. Bad idea."

"Shit, I didn't think about that," Zell said. "Sorry."

Her stomach calmed after a while, and she sat back against the tub with her forehead against her knees. She accepted the wet wash cloth Zell offered and pressed it to her face. The nausea passed, but her limbs shook as she rose to her feet and tossed the cloth in the sink.

"No more meds," she swore. 

"Yeah, okay," Zell agreed. "Want some breakfast?"

"No, thanks," she said. She glanced at her watch. "I need to get Ella up."

The next hour was a blur of activity. Ella campaigned to wear her tutu to school and pulled it on over her dress to show off how pretty it looked. Rinoa couldn't find Ella's shoes or her backpack. Twenty minutes later, she found both behind the couch where she was sure she looked before.

In the kitchen, Zell made pancakes in the shape of t-rexaur heads for Ella while Rinoa grabbed a shower to wash off the remnants of the tranquilizer's hold on her. It did little to lift her mood or the fog in her head, but it washed away the sweat of sickness and sleep and she felt a little better by the time the hot water ran out.

It was nearly time to go when Rinoa finally made it downstairs. At the table, Ella growled at her remaining pancake and stabbed it with a fork a few times before she shoved a piece in her mouth.

"T-rexaur brains!" she proclaimed as Rinoa poured fresh coffee into her mug. "Omnomnom!"

Ella liked to play with her food, then would complain because it was cold by the time she got around to eating it. Rinoa admired the creativity of play, but not at meal time. If they let her have her way, she would spend hours building houses out of carrots and mountains from her peas and mashed potatoes. Rinoa did the best she could to discourage it, and though t-rexaur pancakes were a fun idea, it was not an idea she was in the mood to entertain today.

"Really, Zell?" Rinoa muttered.

"Aww, come on, it's fun," he said with a sunny grin. "Regular old pancakes are boring."

"I'm so going to blame you if she demands chocobo shaped pizza for dinner," Rinoa said.

"Just tell her it's moon shaped."

"That's... Actually, that's not a bad idea," Rinoa conceded. "Ellie-belly, eat. We've got to go."

"Graaawwwr!"

"T-rexaurs are not allowed at the table," Rinoa said. "Or at school. Eat your breakfast, we're going to be late."

Ella ate the last few bites of her pancake as Rinoa slipped a pair of sneakers on Ella's feet. Breakfast done, Ella dinosaur-stomped to the front door, her hands tucked up to her armpits as she growled and pretended to bite things along the way. If Rinoa was in a better mood, she might play along, but the haze the tranquilizer lingered.

Rinoa hated driving. It was old fear she never quite conquered but did anyway because it was necessary. She didn't  even learn until she was almost twenty-three, and only because she was sick of relying on Squall or on friends for a ride. Balamb didn't have much vehicle traffic, but at that hour, there were a lot of pedestrians. Some of them didn't bother to look before they crossed the road. More than once, Rinoa nearly committed vehicular homicide because some ignoramus decided to step out in front of her.

It was no different this morning. As the town woke up, the sidewalks bustled with people on their way to work and tourists out to explore the beaches. In the back seat, Ella chattered on and every now and then, punctuated her speech with a growl.

"If you're going to be a T-rexaur today, no biting the other kids, okay?" Rinoa reminded her as she escorted Ella to her classroom. "You have to be a friendly dinosaur."

Ella nuzzled Rinoa's leg and made a whimpering sound, like a puppy.

"Is daddy coming home today?"

Rinoa's throat tightened. She managed to keep thoughts of Squall at bay so far, but Ella's plaintive question choked her up. She crouched down and smoothed her hands over Ella's hair and shook her head.

"He's going to be at work for a while, sweetie," she lied. "He'll be back soon."

"Tell him he should come home," Ella pouted. "Where he lives."

"I will," Rinoa said. She pressed a kiss to Ella's cheek. "Be good. No biting."

"Graawwrr!"

 

* * *

 

At the bookstore, she counted the safe and the cash drawer, then booted up her computer to close out the weekly sales report. When Dana arrived, Rinoa gave her the cash-handling lecture and felt terrible about it. Sometimes, it was no fun being the boss and she wished she could trust all her employees to pay attention to what they were doing.

There was a short morning rush as commuters came in for coffee and newspapers and reading materials for the train or a day at the beach. Rinoa jumped in to help.  She served the coffee as it was ordered, and she recommended books and magazines to shoppers that browsed the aisles.

Once it slowed down, she retreated to her office and threw herself into the task of ordering. A breakout romance novel was flying off the shelf, and sales of Balamb-themed shot-glasses and post cards were way up. She answered e-mails and perused the customer request lists, took a call from the Balamb Bakery about a proposed selection of baked goods to sell with the coffee, and looked into training guides for food safety for her employees.

It was noon before she realized it and she was glad for the distraction of work to keep her busy. It was only now she understood why Squall used to get so wrapped up in his own work. It kept her mind off her worries.

She helped out with the noon rush until Chastity arrived, repeated her lecture and then returned to the office to finalize payroll.

"Mrs. Leonhart? There's someone here for you," Dana said at the office door.

Rinoa got up and poked her head outside. Quistis stood at the counter in plain clothes, her hair down and a travel bag was slung over her shoulder. After Quistis' behavior the day before, Rinoa wasn't excited to speak with her, but she offered coffee, which Quistis accepted, and ushered her into her office.

"I just wanted to apologize for yesterday," Quistis said as she took a seat beside Rinoa's desk. "It wasn't that I didn't think you could handle it. I hope you know that."

Rinoa turned her face to the computer so Quistis wouldn't see her annoyance. At the time, it seemed like it.

"I didn't want you to remember him that way," Quistis said. "...if the worst should happen."

Rinoa pressed a hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. Unwelcome tears spilled down her cheeks. She'd gone all day without falling apart and in as little as three short sentences, Quistis had dragged it out of her.

"I'm sorry," Quistis said. "I know this isn't easy."

Rinoa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sat back in her chair. She fixed her eyes on the computer screen until the urge to sob passed.

"What's being done?" she asked.

"I'm on my way to Trabia now," Quistis said. "Me and five others. We're going to do everything we can to find him."

"I want to go with you," Rinoa said. "I can help."

Quistis reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Right now, you need to take care of yourself, your daughter, and your business," Quistis said. "You know Squall will appreciate it more if you stay and keep things going while he's gone."

"I'm supposed to do nothing?"

"This isn't nothing," Quistis said and gestured at the store. "This is important, too."

Quistis was right, but it didn't change her desire to go find him and save him if that was what he needed. She wanted to be the first thing he saw when they found him. She wanted to hold him and promise that everything would be fine. To make sure his wounds were healed and that he knew he was safe and loved.

"I take it you haven't seen the news?" Quistis asked.

"What news?"

"They released a video to Galbadia Word News about an hour ago."

Rinoa sat up and stared at Quistis. "Tell me."

"It's as bad as the last one," Quistis said. "But, now the whole world knows that he's been taken hostage."

"I want to see it," Rinoa said.

With a resigned sigh, Quistis directed her to the GWN interlink site, where the very first news item was about Squall. Rinoa scanned the article but the details were sparse and none of them registered anyway. She clicked on the video attached to the story, uninterested in anything but the truth. Quistis made a sound of dismay as it loaded and Squall's pale face filled the screen.

What followed forced Rinoa to muffle a sob with the back of her hand. On screen, Squall choked and sputtered as he endured some kind of water torture under a light so bright, his skin was a ghostly pale.  Nothing could be seen of the surrounding space. A shaky camera panned over a wound in his leg, the flesh around the it inflamed. Streaks of red blazed across his otherwise pale skin and Rinoa could tell it was infected.

A gloved hand wrapped around the injury and squeezed. The sound that came out of Squall was unlike anything Rinoa had ever heard from him before. She nearly screamed along with him - the sound of his suffering tore her heart to shreds.

Nausea washed over her and her skin grew cold. Dizzy, she reached for the small waste basket under her desk and vomited into it as Quistis stopped the video. This was not a holdover from the tranquilizer but a visceral reaction to Squall's pain. She hurt for him, with him, and it killed her that there was nothing she could do to make it stop.

She set the wastebasket aside and wiped her mouth with a napkin as anger swelled in her chest. Who were these people and what the hell did they want? If it was worth torturing a man for, why had they not declared their demands?

"Can I get you something?" Quistis asked. "Water?"

Rinoa shook her head and hit play to continue the video. Squall had lost weight and his eyes were hollow and ringed with dark circles. Chapped lips trembled as his body arched away from his captors, and a pair of fingers dug into the sickening wound on his leg.

"What do they want?" Rinoa asked. "Why are they doing this?"

"We don't know," Quistis admitted. "But, it isn't you. We're sure of that."

If it was about her, the way to end it was simple. She would make a deal, turn herself over and then destroy them one by one for doing this. Rinoa was not a killer at heart, but something like this called to the darker parts of her Sorcery and that part cried out for blood. They could not, and would not get away with this if she had any say in what happened.

But this wasn't about her.  

There was no other choice, was there? She would pack a bag and follow them. Selphie would be happy to watch Ella for a few days, especially if it meant Squall would come home.

"I've asked Cid to assign SeeD to watch over you and Ella for the time being," Quistis said.

"Why?" Rinoa demanded. "You said I'm not the target."

"Reporters, curiosity seekers," Quistis said. "Zell volunteered, if that makes you feel less weird about it."

Zell. Bless him and his big heart. She wouldn't have survived the last twenty-four hours without him, but he wasn't obligated to watch over her. He had a life of his own and she couldn't expect him to babysit her.

Nobody wanted her to freak out, so of course Garden sent someone to report back if she showed signs of going over the edge. Not that she blamed them, but still, even if it was Zell, she hated the idea that someone needed to be assigned the job in the first place.

"And before you get any crazy ideas," Quistis said. "He's been instructed to keep you from running off after us. By force if necessary, so do yourself a favor and forget whatever plan you're concocting in your head."

Rinoa turned to her with a glare but couldn't sustain her anger. Quistis' was just as broken up as Rinoa. There was too much empathy there to be upset with Quistis for this.

"Let us do our job, okay?" Quistis said. "I know this is hard, but your job right now is to be here, and I promise, you'll be the first to know if we find anything."

* * *

Ella was still pretending to be a T-Rexaur when Rinoa picked her up from school. She stomped her way to the car and gnashed her teeth and roared at Rinoa when she buckled the girl into her car seat.

"T-Rexaurs eat meat!" she proclaimed.

"They do," Rinoa agreed.

"They hate vegetables."

"I hear the Stellasarus loves vegetables," Rinoa said, "and we're having broccoli with dinner, so you better eat it all up."

It was a chore to pretend everything was okay, even for Ella's sake, but Rinoa put on a smile and faked it as best as she could. There was no reason to upset her if she didn't have to.

"The Stellasarus loves baby trees," Ella said. "They're my favorite. Comp, chomp, chomp!"

Baby trees was something Squall taught her, back when she'd turned her nose up at the weird, green vegetable on her plate.

That hurt to think about.

Broccoli Pie, indeed.

The nausea hadn't gone away, and the very act of driving made Rinoa sea sick. It came on in waves as her mind drifted back to the things she'd seen in the video and by the time she made it home, she ran for the kitchen sink in order to keep from being sick all over herself.

Zell was already there, and his concern was the last thing she wanted or needed as she vomited for the third time that day. He hovered over her, waiting with a wet cloth when she finally got control of herself.

When she was sure she would not spew all over the kitchen, she took the tranquilizers from her purse and flushed them down the toilet. She watched the offending tablets swirl down the drain and tossed the empty bottle in the trash.

"Never again," she swore as Zell stared from the doorway.

"Rin..." Zell began. "I'm going to take you to see Dr. K. Just to make sure."

"I'm fine," Rinoa said. "I'm just upset."

"I know," Zell said. "But I'm still gonna take you."

"Really, I'm fine," she said. "I need to get started on dinner. I have to go back to work to train someone in a little while."

Zell cracked his knuckles.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," he said. "You're my friend, and I really don't wanna have to make you."

In spite of everything, Rinoa laughed.

"You really think you can?"

"I'll sure as hell try," he said. "Come on, it'll make me feel better to know it's just a bad reaction to the meds and not something else."

"Ella needs to eat," she said "I'll go tomorrow."

" _Now_ , Rin," he said. "Please don't fight me. Me an' Ella will grab something at the cafeteria. You know she loves that."

"I want hot dogs!" Ella shouted. "Please, mommy? Can we?"

Rinoa didn't have the energy to fight the both of them. She relented and allowed Zell to drive them to Garden. He and Ella chattered back and forth about T-Rexaurs the whole way there and as they parked, he made a promise to take Ella to the observation deck in the training center so she could see one.

She was surprised to find that Zell called ahead. Dr. Kadowaki was expecting her and ushered her into an exam room as soon as they arrived. Rinoa frowned at him in annoyance, but he only shrugged in response.

"Are you sick?" Ella asked.

"Just a check up, sweetie," Rinoa promised. "My tummy feels bad today, so we're just going to make sure everything's okay."

"We'll be back in a bit," Zell promised as he took Ella by the hand. "I'm sure you'll be waiting with bated breath to hear all about the T-Rexaurs."

"Graaaawwwrrr!" Ella chimed in.

"Can't wait," Rinoa said with false enthusiasm.

Rinoa waited while Dr. Kadowaki pulled her file and then joined her in the exam room. The older woman took her pulse and her blood pressure, her temperature and her weight. As if they hadn't done this the day before. As if anything changed from then to now.

"I understand the meds made you sick?" Dr. Kadowaki said.

"I forgot you're not supposed to drink alcohol," Rinoa said. "I had a few drinks before I took one last night. Woke up nauseous, threw up a few times."

"How many times?"

"...three."

Dr. Kadowaki made a note in Rinoa's chart. "We could try something else. Something a little milder?"

"No," Rinoa said. "I don't want it. What I want is for Squall to come home."

"When was your last period?" Dr. Kadowaki asked.

Rinoa blinked at her, confused by the question. What did that have to do with Squall coming home? Hadn't she asked yesterday?

"Three and a half weeks ago," Rinoa said.

"Is there a possibility that you're pregnant?"

Rinoa bit her lip and frowned at the woman. "I suppose, but.."

"Well, then let's find out, shall we?"

Twenty minutes later, after a quick exam and a urine sample, Dr. Kadowaki returned, sat down and gazed at Rinoa with a sad smile.

"No," Rinoa said. "Please say it was negative."

"Came back positive," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Congratulations, you're pregnant."

Rinoa's mouth dropped open, but no words would come out.

"You're probably about two to three weeks along," the doctor said. "I'll need to do an ultrasound to confirm, but that probably explains the nausea."

This was not news Rinoa needed or wanted to hear right now. This was news Squall should be there for, and the timing couldn't be any worse.

Rinoa lay back on the exam table, put her hands over her eyes and promptly burst into tears.


	4. Chapter 4

 

4

* * *

 

The hunger pangs stopped. Squall didn't crave even the smallest morsel of food and instead woke one day with a stark clarity that wasn't there before. Everything in the dank, dark cell around him came into sharper focus, even in the dim light, and his mind was clear.

He knew this. Why he wasn't hungry anymore.

The first seven or eight days, the pain of hunger could cripple a man. By day eight or nine, the pain of hunger subsided, and the body adjusted and began to metabolize its own fat stores and muscles to survive, until it atrophied and wasted and the heart gave out. True, he could die of other complications, of illness or injury, but that was his most likely trajectory. Some could live months without food if they were healthy to start with, but the higher the fat reserves, the longer one could live without food.

Prior to his capture, Squall was a picture of health, save a slightly enlarged heart due to years of rigorous training. That same training combined with a bad habit of forgetting to eat when he was busy meant that his body fat percentage was about a half a percent below what Dr. Kadowaki considered healthy. That put Squall at a disadvantage in terms of survival, when stacked next to an average man of average health and weight.

The wound on his leg was a disadvantage, too. It was only getting worse. The wound wouldn't close and it oozed thick, blood-tinged pus when it was touched. He needed antibiotics and potions, clean bandages and peroxide or else he was going to lose it to infection. The skin around it ached, and he was sick and feverish, alternately sweating and shivering as his body tried to combat the pollution in his blood.

He could put no weight on the leg, and he could barely stand on his own. He was too weak, and he needed to reserve his energy anyway, but if there was an opportunity for escape, Squall wouldn't be able to take the initiative and run on a leg he could bear no weight on.

After a while, he lost track of how long it had been. Days? Weeks? Months? All he knew was sometimes they left him alone. Other times, they made him scream. Always the same question:  _Where is she?_

There was no day or night down in this hole. He began to mark his sleeps on the stone wall beside him with a piece of mortar that had come loose. In no way was it an accurate representation of how much time passed since his capure. Those twenty-seven little lines meant nothing, but it was the only thing he had to keep him connected to reality.

And reality sucked.

They started to bring him food every so often. Without a point of reference, he judged the time between meals to be approximately a week, but it could be every other day for all he knew. Time ceased to make sense. Hours and days stretched into infinity or mere seconds, and there was nothing but the waiting. Waiting for a rescue. For the next torture session. Waiting for the next meal.

Food made him sick after so many days without. He knew better than to stuff the stale bits of bread down his throat with such haste and he paid the price. That first meal was lost to him, as his stomach rejected even the smallest bites, and he vomited it up all over the floor that no one cleaned and suffered the ridicule of his captors. They left him on his side next to the puddle and he curled up in a ball and waited for the nausea to pass. It was days-hours-weeks before the next came.

It was never a full meal. Just a stale slice of bread, a bowl of soup. Just enough to keep him alive.

With it, sometimes, they brought potions for his wounds, just enough to prevent the infection from killing him.

It was always just enough. Just enough food. Just enough first aid. Just enough pain to make him cry out.

For whatever reason, they needed him alive, and that was a small comfort to cling to, even if sometimes it was bad enough he silently begged for death.

But still, he clung to it, that tiny shred of hope that he would see his wife and daughter again.

In between, awful things were done to him.

They burned the soles of his feet with an iron rod that glowed like molten lava. They pulled a molar with a pair of pliers. Broke one wrist, then the other. Ripped handfuls of hair from his head. Snipped off the pinky finger of his left hand at the knuckle and cauterized the wound with a blow torch.

The more they did, the further he retreated. Sometimes, he didn't even feel it. It was like watching a movie. Like watching it happen to someone else. He was awake, he saw, but his mind was so far away, the pain didn't register until it was over.

He stopped wondering what they wanted, or when he would go home. In his head, he was already home, with Ella curled up in his lap, her high, clear voice singing a song she learned in school. He was with Rinoa, half asleep with the warmth of her body pressed against his own.

Reality came and went. Clarity when he was alone. Fantasy when there was pain. It flickered in and out like a dying fluorescent bulb.

He wasn't even aware they moved him somewhere cleaner and warmer until he was already shackled in small room with a porthole high above on one wall. Beneath him, his new residence rocked as though they were on a ship. Back and forth, back and forth, his stomach rolled anew, this time with sea sickness.

At least now, he could tell night from day, but did it matter anymore?

"We have your wife and child, Leonhart," his captor said. "Tell us the truth and no harm will come to them."

Cold fear cut across him like the blade of a dull knife. His stomach twisted into knots and his mind threatened retreat. For the sake of his sanity, he forced himself to believe Rinoa and Ella were safe and waiting for him at home.

_I'll take Ella to the park, push her on the swings. To the beach, to look for shells._

They were safe. They would be protected. Looked after. Cid would ensure it, and if not, Laguna. Quistis and Irvine and Selphie and Zell would rally around them and keep them safe.

"Bullshit."

"Rinoa is very pretty. I'd hate to have to make her  _not_  pretty."

"I don't know who you're looking for," he breathed.

Something hard cracked against the side of his skull and his vision went dark, reformed itself, went dark, and reformed in time with his heartbeat.

"Edea. Where is she?"

Edea? What could they want with Edea? She was no longer a Sorceress, her power gone, and she was no threat to anyone at all. She spent 300 days a year on the White SeeD ship, and the rest of it at the orphanage, though Squall didn't understand why. The place was little more than a ruin and offered little in the way of protection against the elements.

Squall gave them the only answer he could.

"I don't know."

* * *

Four weeks.

A whole month, and not a word. Quistis, Selphie, and a team of SeeDs were in Trabia, searching the mountains around where Squall was last seen, and so far, they found nothing. There was no trace of Squall anywhere, not a shred of evidence of where he might have been taken, or of what might have happened.

It was hard not to lose hope.

Sometimes, Rinoa dreamed of him, trapped in darkness and wrapped in cold and pain, his limbs thin and weak and his face hollow. He would reach for her, his hand wrapped around her wrist, nothing but bone, bleached and dry against her skin.

Other times, she met him in the field beside the orphanage, as he was when they were seventeen. In these dreams, he was battle weary but whole and healthy, his face still soft with the last vestiges of adolescence. He would look past her, around her and when she called his name, he wouldn't hear her.

Sometimes, the field reformed into the black void of space. In these dreams, Squall didn't come to her rescue. Instead, she was alone in the darkness, her oxygen low and the lights of the space station so distant they were almost indistinguishable from the stars. He was gone – _he never existed at all_  – she would panic, suffocate, die alone in perfect pitch black emptiness.

That one was the worst.

She would wake, gasping for breath with a cry on her lips. Her hands would rake through the linens in search of Squall and come up empty. Then, she'd remember, he wasn't there, and the hurt would start all over again.

Sometimes, her night terrors woke Zell, though how he heard her all the way down the hall, Rinoa didn't know, and he would make her tea and distract her from her darker thoughts with jokes and stories and near constant chatter until she decided to dress or go back to bed.

Morning sickness lasted all day. No one knew she was pregnant. She hadn't told a soul and everyone assumed her listlessness and refusal to eat was due to Squall's absence. They assumed she was just heart-sick and encouraged her to eat anyway, and when she did, she could barely hold it down. She did her best to hide her rounds of vomiting from Zell, and was mostly successful. Eventually, he and everyone else would figure it out, but for now, she couldn't bring herself to say it. That might make it real.

She was barely sick with when pregnant with Ella. There was only a mild nausea that lasted a few weeks, but this time around, even the smell of food turned her stomach, and she was weak, jittery, and tired all the time. Worried, she'd gone to Dr. Kadowaki for advice.

"You never know how your body will react," the doctor told her. "Some woman begin to feel ill weeks into pregnancy and some never get sick at all. Sometimes the nausea is mild, sometimes extreme. And every pregnancy is different."

Rinoa did not feel good about this pregnancy, and the morning sickness was only half of it. The other half was Squall's absence. He wasn't there. He didn't even know and there was no way to tell him.

Squall was scared to death the first time around. He wasn't ready to be a father, but he found the changes to her body fascinating, and as her belly grew, so did his interest in parenthood. Just like every other burden thrust upon his shoulders, Squall adapted, embraced it, and accepted the challenge.

He read every book he could find on the subject of child-rearing and studied the details of feedings and swaddling and developmental progress like a bloodhound on the scent of a criminal. He joined an online forum for fathers and soaked up all the advice more experienced dads offered, and he researched the worthiness of dozens of educational toys, books, strollers, brands of diapers, pre-walk footwear... Anything and everything related to baby was well researched beforehand.

Once, Rinoa caught him practicing diaper changes on a doll he borrowed from Selphie and she teased him mercilessly. He accompanied Rinoa to birthing classes and acted the stern, hard-nosed coach like it was a SeeD training drill and not a room full of fat, uncomfortable pregnant ladies learning to breathe correctly for delivery.

She found all this hilariously funny, but no one could accuse Squall Leonhart of being unprepared, at least, not in terms of practical knowledge. Emotionally was a different story.

Squall doubted himself and his ability to be a good father, and for a time, his doubts infected Rinoa. He might be too much like her own father – too strict, too cold, and too impatient for children, but he surprised her, and himself, by being none of those things when the time came.

From the start, Squall was every bit the loving, doting, and patient father every little girl deserved. From the very beginning, there were stars in his eyes when he looked at Ella and he was the first to respond to her cries in the night. He held Ella so much in the beginning, Rinoa teased him about learning to share and Edea had scolded him for spoiling her.

But he loved his daughter completely. Not even Rinoa could make him smile the way Ella could.

Ella asked about him every day, and every day, it broke Rinoa's heart a little more.

"When is daddy coming home?"

"Soon, sweetie," Rinoa said. "He's still working."

"How long is soon?"

"I don't know."

Soon might be never, but Rinoa didn't know how to tell Ella the truth. How could she expect a child so young to understand? How could she explain what _hostage_ meant without Ella being afraid that someone might take Rinoa away, too?

Ellone came to visit two weeks after Squall's disappearance and stayed to help. She would have come sooner, if she'd known, but it was difficult to reach her when she was at sea with the White SeeDs and Ellone tried to stay out people's heads if she could avoid it. Ellone, at Rinoa's request, tried to connect with Squall, but it was all either pain or darkness and nothing Rinoa hadn't already seen or heard.

Brick walls, damp, cold, - _pain_.

That was all there was. Squall had retreated so far inside his head, he was unreachable. He didn't know they were there or that anyone was looking for him. He didn't know where he was. All he knew was darkness.

After the first few times, Rinoa couldn't look anymore. It hurt too much to know how badly he was being treated. It hurt that it was so bad, he locked himself away somewhere inside his own head where no one could touch him.

Ellone kept trying, but there was nothing new. Only darkness and pain.

Laguna popped in too, but never for long. A day here, a weekend there, his duties in Esthar kept him busy. He came when he could, and he promised to spare no expense to ensure Squall's safe return and offered to hire a housekeeper and a nanny and a number of other services to help Rinoa stay afloat. The housekeeper, she accepted, if only because it was the one thing she let slip, even with her friends there to lend a hand.

And Zell.

If not for him, Rinoa would have fallen apart, burned the house down, and thrown herself off a cliff three times over. He helped her get Ella ready for school on the bad mornings, mowed the lawn, made dinner, and did a thousand other little things that Rinoa couldn't always find it in herself to do. Zell did them all with a smile and not a word of complaint.

"Easiest mission I've ever been on," he said. "I'll take lawn maintenance over dragon extermination any day."

Between Ellone and Zell, Rinoa should have been okay, but she wasn't. She was distracted, sick, and anxious. She either slept too much or not enough, and there was a horrible emptiness inside her that nothing, not even Ella could fill.

The fourth week of Squall's absence, the morning sickness began to abate. She'd lost weight, and food still held no appeal, but it was better.

She still hadn't told anyone. She didn't want their sympathy, and in her situation, all that would do was earn her more pity.

One sunny afternoon that same week, she sat in her office, munching on dry crackers while she did her weekly ordering. The store was tuning a nice profit, thanks to the small selection of exclusive baked goods and Lance's suggestion about discount coupons for Garden students and regulars. Tourist season had come to an end, and the influx of locals and students helped balance the loss of revenue.

She submitted her order for upcoming paperback releases and sat back to stare at the computer screen. Her reflection was just a shape, an outline, but for a moment, it was Squall she saw.

Pale faced, gaunt, sick –  _broken_.

From her pocket, she retrieved the Griever emblem and ran its damaged chain through her fingers. It was a talisman, a touchstone, something to connect her to him when she felt his absence the most. It didn't help much, but it was something.

"Rin?"

Rinoa turned for the door, where Ellone stood with a bag from the deli in her hand, a pile of children's books clutched against her chest with the other.

"Brought you lunch," Ellone said. "You like turkey, right?"

"Thanks," Rinoa said. "I hope those aren't for Ella. She has all the books she needs."

"One of them is," Ellone admitted and revealed one with a cartoon dinosaur on the cover. Ella was still obsessed. "The rest are for the kids on the ship. They're sick of the books we have, and honestly, I am too. I have half of them memorized."

Rinoa pulled a chair up to her desk so Ellone could join her and cleared away her order lists to make space for the food. Not that Rinoa was hungry, but she would make a show of eating whatever Ellone had brought, just so she didn't have to hear about it.

"I don't have to leave," Ellone said and placed a wrapped sandwich in front of Rinoa. "I can stay if you need me to."

"It's fine," Rinoa said. "I'm sure the kids miss you. Edea, too."

"I'm sure they do, but..." Ellone said. Her were eyes shrewd when they fell on Rinoa. "You're going to need all the help you can get till Squall comes home. Maybe after. When the baby comes."

Rinoa blinked at her, less surprised than she should have been that Ellone figured it out.

"How did you know?"

"A hunch," Ellone said. "You just confirmed it."

Rinoa burst into tears. She didn't mean to. She wanted to keep it in, to be strong and tough and remain in control, but everything she held back for the last month came poring out all at once.

She pressed the heels of her hands over her eyes like that would keep the tears from spilling out, but once they breached the dam, there was no stopping them. Ellone's arms wrapped around her, and there was no choice but to let go. She sobbed into Ellone's shoulder, unable to make herself stop, even when it began to make her nauseous.

Ellone didn't tell her it was going to be okay. She didn't promise Squall would come home. Those were things Rinoa needed to hear, even if they proved to be untrue. But she also didn't want to be lied to.

Nothing was okay. Squall wasn't home. And Squall's absence might become a permanent  reality she tried to deny when she lay in bed at night and stared at the pillow where Squall's head was supposed to rest.

* * *

Quistis didn't think she would be warm ever again. Four weeks in Trabia, neck deep in snow, and it might as well have been hell. They searched everywhere within a thirty mile radius and found nothing. Not a trace of Squall Leonhart remained and Quistis long ago began to suspect they were searching the wrong landscape.

If they didn't find anything soon, they would have to scrap the mission. Though Quistis was reluctant to give up the quest, the longer they went without so much as a clue, the less she believed Squall was alive. And if he was, he was most certainly not here.

She ducked into the command tent, her fingers half frozen, even in gloves, and she sighed happily at the freshly brewed pot of coffee beside the war table. Someone had done her a kindness, after hours in the cold. The drink could taste burnt and bitter and she would welcome it anyway, so long as it was warm. She poured herself a cup, hands still encased in double lined, waterproof gloves made for extreme weather, and sat down.

The map before her was covered in red X marks, to show where they already searched and came up empty. There was a lot of red.

Quistis picked up the marker and added a new one.

Only the area north of where they were camped was unmarked, and that was comprised of less than two miles of ground, though much of it was in the form of vertical rock face and steep, winding trails of loose dirt and gravel encased in a layer of ice. It would be tough to navigate in normal conditions. In these conditions, it was damn near impossible and would take days to explore.

There was still no word from Squall's kidnappers, no demand for ransom. The video that made the news was the last one the world or SeeD got to see. That was a bad sign. In this case, no news was not good news.

She sipped her coffee and clutched it close to her face to thaw her frozen nose and closed her eyes for a moment. Quistis was not the sort to pray, but she said a prayer for Squall anyway, in the hopes that if there was a higher power out there listening, maybe this time she would be heard.

The tent flap rustled and Quistis opened her eyes as a tall man bundled in arctic wear similar to her own stepped inside.

"Cold as Shiva's nipples out there," he said. "Is that coffee?"

"Cups are in the box on the floor."

He stepped over to the coffee pot and poured a measure into a paper cup.

"Didn't find shit, did you?"

"You, too, I see," Quistis said.

He turned around, the hood of his jacket still pulled over his head. He left it up, but undid the thermal mask that covered his face to take a sip of the coffee, and he savored it the same way Quistis had.

"Shit, that's good."

"Would you care if it wasn't?"

"Nah," he said. "Could taste like a Grendel's ass and I wouldn't care."

"That paints a lovely picture," Quistis said.

Seifer flashed a grin and laughed. "I thought so."

When Cid told her Seifer was contracted to help with the mission, she laughed until she realized Cid was not laughing with her. Unbeknownst to Quistis, Laguna, of all people, took pity on Seifer after the war, publicly pardoned him and put him to work. First as a gunblade instructor for the army, and later as an undercover operative in Laguna's personal guard. From time to time, Seifer picked up work at Cid and Squall's request, either as a consultant or an operative, depending on how they wanted that particular mission to go, and whether or not less ethical means were necessary. Quistis was never told about this arrangement, but it made sense so long as she looked at it objectively.

Seifer's presence here now was the result of both Cid and Laguna's involvement. It was not the sort of job Seifer was used to, and the lack of action and results made him more prickly than usual.

He took a seat across from her, drew a mark on the map and stared at all the others.

"I hate to say it, Trepe, but I don't think we're gonna find him. If he's alive, he's not here," Seifer said. "I doubt he's even still on the continent. If these people were smart enough to detain him, they're smart enough to go somewhere that isn't obvious."

"Where would you look?"

"Anywhere but the scene of the crime," Seifer said.

Quistis switched on the small table-top heater and toyed with the toggles on her gloves.

"What do you think they want?"

"Hell if I know," he said tersely. "Lots of reasons they might want him. Figure that out, figure out where they might be. Sure as hell ain't here."

Quistis took another swallow of her coffee, emptied it and got up for a refill. There was just enough left to top off Seifer's cup, so she offered it up and he filled it to the brim.

"Nothing from Ellone?"

"No," Quistis said. "She's sure he's still alive, but he doesn't know where he is."

They sat in silence and drank their coffee. There wasn't anything more to say that they hadn't already said a hundred times. They were both tired and done with the cold and the snow, both frustrated with the lack of results, and both ready to go home. Quistis feared they were just wasting their time.

"Quistis? I think we've got something," Nida said over the radio. He called out a coordinate and Quistis stood to confirm his location on the map.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Abandoned house, at the top of the Black Ridge trail head," Nida said. "Looks like it burned down pretty recently, or at least... the basement did."

Quistis glanced at Seifer. His expression gave nothing away, but there was an intensity in his sea-green eyes that betrayed him. His mind was already three steps ahead and calculating the fastest way to the trail head, preferably with a little bloodshed along the way.

"There's a body down here," Nida said. "...I'm pretty sure it's him, Quistis."

* * *

Rinoa was in the middle of helping Zell make dinner, when his phone rang. He looked at the display, frowned and wandered away from her as she stirred a seasoning packet into a pot of rice.

Zell was out of earshot, and it was difficult to tell from his posture whether or not he was being scolded by his Ma or if it was something more serious, but Rinoa's heart responded with an up-tick in beats per minute and a lump formed in her throat.

At the table, Ella colored a green blob she would probably say was a dinosaur. Rinoa couldn't tear her eyes away from her daughter for several long seconds as a premonition of sorts took hold of her.

" _Sweetie, your daddy isn't coming home."_

" _Dead. Squall is dead."_

" _Can I go see daddy in heaven? I want to tell him to come home?"_

" _Dead means forever..."_

The knot in her throat tightened and became painful as her heart started to beat hard and furious against her ribcage. Adrenaline prickled through her veins and over her skin and her breaths increased to soft pants as her chest restricted and squeezed in response to what she already knew to be true. On her wrist, the Odine bangle prickled with energy.

She flicked her eyes from Ella to Zell and back, until Zell hung up his phone and stood facing the hall. His shoulders slumped, his head hung, fists balled tight at his sides.

"No," Rinoa said as he turned around to face her with tears already in his eyes. "No, Zell."

He motioned for her to follow him and tilted his head toward Ella. Whatever he learned wasn't meant for a little girl's ears.

"Zell-"

"I'm so sorry, Rin," Zell croaked and threw his arms around her neck. " _I'm so, so sorry_."


	5. Chapter 5

 

* * *

 5

* * *

The walls of the small basement room showed no sign of a fire, but the man on the floor appeared to have been immolated by an exceptionally hot, concentrated blaze. He lay curled in the fetal position inside a dark circle of soot and ash, so badly burned, bones showed through blackened and charred flesh.

It could have been anyone. It barely resembled a person anymore.

There were no identifying elements left, nothing that said with any degree of certainty that this was Squall Leonhart. Clothing, skin, and hair had all been burned away, his face a nightmare. A row of unnaturally white teeth grinned back in the beam of Quistis' flashlight and she shuddered, cast an uneasy glance at Seifer and crouched down beside the body.

In the light, something on the man's left hand shimmered. With a small brush, Quistis dusted away a layer of ash and soot to reveal two partially melted rings. One appeared to be a platinum wedding band, the other the misshapen head of a beast.

Quistis trained her flashlight away from the body and swept it over the stone walls. In the corners, delicate threads of spiderwebs moved in the breeze, their structure and occupants left undisturbed in spite of whatever happened down here.

On the far wall, thick metal chains dangled from a pair of O rings mounted in the stone. They snaked across the dirty, water-stained floor and terminated in a pair of cuffs clamped tight around the body's wrists. Halfway down the wall, beneath the O rings, was a dark, brownish-red stain.

Quistis stepped away from the body and inspected the mark. Dried blood, a few strands of hair embedded in it. Quistis waved Nida over to collect samples. They would need as much evidence as possible to confirm the victim's identity, and Quistis doubted there was much on the body they could use.

"Hey Trepe," Seifer called. "This look like a tooth to you?"

He held up something gray or white with a pair of tweezers and turned it from side to side to inspect it.

"A molar," Quistis said as she moved to his side. "Roots are still attached."

Whether or not it belonged to Squall was something only testing could determine. Seifer bagged and labeled it and placed it in a box near the door. They would know soon enough.

"Let's bag the body for transport," she said. "Nida, get with Selphie and have the team break down camp. We're going home."

For the next three hours, after the body was carefully removed from the scene and readied for the trip to Garden, Quistis and Seifer combed the small room for any remaining shred of evidence that would help identify both the body and the perpetrators.

There wasn't much left to find. Nida recovered a bit of a finger, partially dried but with the nail and print still intact. Seifer bagged a few fiber samples, a small scrap of stiff black rip-stop fabric, the kind most often used in tactical clothing.

Quistis wasn't going to leave without ensuring every, single bit of evidence was found and catalogued. Behind her, Seifer huffed in annoyance as she crab walked along the walls and inspected crevices and unusual marks they missed the first go around.

Not far from the bloodstain, Quistis found thirty-two lines scratched into the wall, lined up in neat rows and grouped by five.

Below that, in all caps,  _I'M SORRY._

Seifer wandered over to Quistis' side as she took a photo. He crouched down, uncharacteristically serious, and ran a finger underneath the scratch marks.

"Number of days in captivity?" he asked.

"Maybe," Quistis said. "It's off by a few."

"No daylight down here," Seifer said. "Easy to get confused when there's no way to tell."

Seifer nudged a spot on the floor with his foot. Something was caked and dried on the concrete.

"Vomit," Seifer said.

Quistis just nodded and turned he eyes to the half-filled jug of water, and the bucket that reeked of ammonia in the corner. Hard to imagine surviving down here for close to a month. Did they starve as well as torture him?

"Hope like hell it isn't him," Seifer said. "This isn't how he'd want to go."

"It wasn't supposed to go like this."

"Never is," Seifer said.

"It was just training."

"We done here, Trepe?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get out of here," Seifer said. "This place gives me the creeps. Brings back bad memories."

Back at camp, the tents and supplies were boxed in crates and loaded into transport vehicle. Selphie ordered a handful of Trabia Garden cadets to scout the perimeter for trash and debris.

A different kind of cold settled over Quistis as she moved about the remnants of the camp, and it had nothing to do with the freezing temperature.

She made a couple of phone calls, one to Cid, the other to Zell. She didn't have clearance to share information with him, but she considered him part of her team – he was charged with protecting the wife of the hostage and at the very least, he could prepare Rinoa for bad news. She deserved to know the truth.

"How sure are you, Quis?" Zell asked. "Like, maybe? Or..."

"Pretty sure," she said.

"So he's dead?"

"...yes."

The sun was setting by the time Quistis climbed into the passenger seat of the transport vehicle. In the back, the body was encased in plastic inside a sturdy wooden box. It was very likely the body of her childhood friend, her student, her Commander, and it seemed impossible anything could have brought him down.

He was not infallible, not perfect, but he was strong and experienced, and one of the few people Quistis believed might stand a chance against Squall Leonhart besides herself was sitting right next to her.

She stared out the window in silence for the duration of the hour drive to the coast, and she was grateful that Seifer didn't try to make conversation. He focused on the road, lost in thoughts of his own.

Quistis held it together long enough to see the gunboats loaded, her teams fed and bunked down for the six hour trip. After she was sure everyone was turned in for the night, she climbed up to the deck and wept, all by herself, under a star-filled sky.

* * *

Zell met the Trabia search teams at the harbor early the next morning. He wasn't asked or assigned to assist, but he showed up anyway out of respect for Squall. If it really was him, Zell wanted to be there to escort the body back to Garden. It was his duty, as a SeeD, and as a friend and no one could tell him any different.

He did his duty and helped unload, and when the long box came down the gangplank, Zell grabbed one end and helped load it into the back of a vehicle. The box was lighter than Zell thought it would be, and he wondered how it was possible that a full-grown man lay inside.

As they closed the hatch on the vehicle, Zell stared at it through the window, said a silent prayer, and climbed into the back seat for the ride back to Garden.

Quistis filled him in on a few details, but Zell already knew most of it. Cid expedited a number of tests to confirm, but from what Quistis said, this was the real deal. All they could do now was wait for confirmation and hope that they found someone else.

Outside the infirmary, Zell paced the hall as the others picked at cafeteria sandwiches. No one had an appetite, but they went through the motions and killed time with small talk. Two cadets had been expelled for vandalism. Instructor Aki was going to retire at the end of the semester. The cafeteria changed brands of hot dogs and the students were on the verge of mutiny. Zell tuned it out after a while and sat down to pick at his meal.

Hours later, Dr. Kadowaki emerged from the office and ushered them all upstairs to Cid's office. Already, Selphie was in tears and Zell was close. It was obvious from the look on the doctor's face, it wasn't good news.

"Is it him?" Quistis asked once they were seated behind closed doors.

"The body is in too bad a shape to obtain a usable tissue sample," Dr. Kadowaki said. "They must have used some kind of chemical..."

"The fingerprint was a match," Cid said. "The blood sample matched type, as well. I'm sorry to say, that's enough evidence to declare him..."

Cid sniffled and looked away.

"Pending the analysis of the hair and tooth samples," Dr. Kadowaki said, "I'm inclined to agree. I suspect they'll also be a match when they come back from the lab."

"So, that's it then?" Zell asked. "He's dead?"

"We don't want to draw this out too long," Cid said. "For Rinoa's sake."

Zell frowned. He detected something false in Cid's tone. Rinoa was never Cid's first concern. Cid was lying, or keeping something from them.

"Can I see him?" Zell asked.

"You really don't want to, Zell," Quistis said. "Trust me."

Zell went anyway, and then wished he listened to Quistis. As soon as he laid eyes on what remained of his friend, he fled the room, locked himself in a maintenance closet and cried for almost an hour. With Seifer around, Zell didn't want to be caught crying. Years of being called a baby, of being tormented to the point of tears forced him to grieve behind closed doors where no one could see.

When Zell emerged from his hiding spot, he insisted Rinoa be kept away, no matter how hard she argued. She didn't need to see this. Nobody who loved Squall needed to see what he looked like now, and Zell did not want Rinoa's last memory of him to be  _that_.

Then, he demanded the rings. Zell wanted to clean and repair them so Rinoa had something left to hold onto, besides Squall's broken necklace. Cid was reluctant to turn them over, but to Zell's surprise, Seifer backed him up.

"Give him the rings, Kramer," Seifer said. "It's the least you can do."

"They're part of the investigation -"

"Bullshit," Seifer said. "You've already had them swabbed. They're not going to tell you anything else, so hand 'em over."

An hour later, Zell received a pair of rings in an evidence bag. Both were blackened with soot. The wedding band only needed a good cleaning. The Griever ring was misshapen in spots and would need to be rebuilt. Zell believed he could fix it and get both cleaned up in time for a funeral if needed.

The next twenty-four hours or so went by way too slow for Zell's tastes. Rinoa was not up for conversation and sat wrapped in a blanket on the couch as Ellone tried to coax her into drinking some tea. Zell entertained Ella when she started asking questions.

After Ella was put to bed and Rinoa lost in her own world, Zell went to the garage and cleaned Squall's wedding ring for want of something to pass the time. He held it up to the light and inspected the engraving on the inside of the band.

_**I PROMISE.** _

When news finally came, to everyone's surprise, it was Cid who delivered it. The samples all came back a match.

Squall Leonhart was really and truly dead.

* * *

 _Hostage_ was not the worst word a wife could hear.

A month ago, Rinoa believed that  _dead_  would at least bring some closure, but it didn't. Dead was the end of everything she knew. Dead meant she would wake up alone, never see Squall smile for Ella again, never feel his hands on her skin or the weight of him above her as they made love. She would never hear him talk in his sleep or laugh at her cooking mishaps. She would never smell sweat and fresh cut grass on his skin again or get to admire the way he looked without his shirt on.

Dead was gone forever. But it wasn't closure.

She scarcely registered Cid's words, barely felt the embraces of her friends, almost didn't see the worry in her daughter's big, blue eyes. There were too many people in the house. They talked in hushed voices, hands guided her to the couch, food and drinks were placed in her hand. Selphie's loud sobbing and Zell's quiet scolding. It was as if she was on the outside looking in on a life that didn't belong to her.

They offered condolences and she accepted them without a word. On her wrist, the Odine bangle sizzled and snapped and burned a ring in her skin. She waited for it to shatter into dust, to crack and fall to the floor, but nothing happened.

She made funeral arrangements with Cid, the turn out would be massive. Yes, white lilies were appropriate. Of course, donate to an orphanage in lieu of flowers. The ballroom was fine for a memorial service. Squall would love it if Zell gave a eulogy.

Closed casket. They couldn't even put him in his uniform. 

_Sorry, so sorry, he was so young, sorry for your loss, my condolences..._

It all blurred together. Laguna arrived in the morning, Irvine too, from wherever he'd been, no one really knew anymore, and Rinoa sat through it all in a daze as Ella clung to her and asked questions she couldn't answer.

_Where is daddy? When is he coming home? Why are you so sad, mommy?_

For the first time, Rinoa wished she hadn't flushed the tranquilizers.

* * *

Zell expected Rinoa to go to pieces, but she didn't. She stood in the foyer, blank eyed as Cid offered his condolences and an apology, and she said nothing in response. She expected the news. They all di, from the moment Quistis called and said she believed they had found Squall, but Zell anticipated a meltdown. Tears, screaming, out of control magic, broken Odine bangles.

Rinoa did nothing of the sort.

In the days that followed, Rinoa walked through the house, from room to room as if she was lost or a ghost herself. She didn't cry at all. She went about her daily tasks with empty eyes and made funeral arrangements while Ella was at school.

A memorial was planned for the weekend and the turnout was expected to be huge. Zell got his uniform pressed and spent his evenings reshaping the face of the Griever ring. He wanted it ready in time to present to Rinoa at the memorial and he put off sleep where he could to make sure it was done.

Zell did his best to help where he could. He cooked and greeted visitors and fielded phone calls while Rinoa sat on the couch and stared that the sunlight filtering through the stained glass rosette in the living room. He could have gone home to his Ma's, or to his room at Garden, but he stayed because Rinoa needed her friends there, someone to help out, someone who didn't burst into tears every five minutes the way Selphie and Laguna did. She needed a shoulder to cry on when she finally broke.

Every time Zell thought about Squall, and what he must have been through, it hurt him all the way to his soul, and at night, when he was alone in the guest room, he bawled into the pillow, the fabric pressed against his eyes and mouth so no one would hear him. Ellone and Rinoa wouldn't judge him for his tears, but old habits died hard.

Word spread of Squall's untimely end, and the world collectively mourned. Headlines broadcast the news in big, bold headlines and detailed the circumstances of Squall's death in terms too graphic for those that knew and loved him. Television news did the same, alternately praising and vilifying SeeD and Squall himself. Some praised him as a hero, others a cold and calculating killer trained by a flawed organization.

The first few days were quiet, but on the third day, they were besieged by reporters and Zell summoned Eden to get them to back off. Laguna contracted SeeD to patrol the grounds to keep them away, but they persisted. They were like a swarm of mosquitoes, hungry for blood. Every time anyone went out, they were followed and harassed.

Ellone stayed too, rather than go back with the White SeeD ship. They both agreed Selphie needed to be kept away for the time being. She visited, but all she did was sob and howl, and Ella started to cry because of it.

Rinoa just stared at the wall, turning Squall's necklace over and over in her hands.

The day before the funeral, Ellone took Zell to lunch. They sat outside on the deck of a seafood restaurant and tried to talk of other things, but the conversation inevitably turned back to Squall and Rinoa.

"Can't believe he's dead," Zell said. "Doesn't feel like it's real."

Ellone blinked down at her plate and toyed with her napkin.

"Can I tell you something, and you won't think I'm crazy?"

"It would have to be really crazy for me to think that," he said. "Given the givens."

She continued to play with the napkin, folded it, unfolded it and finally set it aside.

"...I'm not sure he's dead."

"What do you mean?" Zell asked. He didn't dare let hope get the better of his reasoning. He'd seen the body. There was no way Squall had survived.

"It's strange," she said. "I've never been able to access a dead person's memories before. I tried, with Raine, but I never could. Squall... I can still see things from his past. I don't know why I tried. Hope that he wasn't dead, I guess, but I shouldn't be able to see anything if he's really gone."

"What about more recent stuff?" Zell asked. "Anything in the last week?"

"Nothing that helps," Ellone said. "When I have been able to reach him, it's all dark and what I do get is like... fantasy or something. Anything within the last week is different. There's something there, but I can't get in."

"But they identified his body," Zell said. "Like confirmed it, with tests and stuff."

"I know," Ellone said. "That's what makes it so strange. It's like his consciousness is still there, even if his body isn't."

Zell shivered at that thought, and he pictured Squall's ghost wandering around in search of his body. It reminded him of a story Ellone used to tell back at the orphanage about a dead man in search of his missing liver, after Edea tucked them into bed and turned out the lights.

"Who's got my liver?" Zell murmured.

"I can't believe you remember that," Ellone said. "You were so little."

"It was scary!" Zell said. "And now I have you to blame for hating liver and onions."

"Don't blame me for that. Everyone hates liver and onions," Ellone said. "Nothing even remotely appetizing about it."

"Tell that to my Ma," Zell said. "She made it every Sunday."

Ellone offered a gentle smile.

"I'm glad you found a family, Zell."

Zell reached across the table and grabbed hold of her hand.

"I had a family before them."

* * *

Rinoa sat on the back deck of the house and stared at the rose bushes that lined the back fence. The summer weather in Balamb was too hot for roses, but in the fall and winter, they erupted in big, fragrant blooms in shades of coral and pink and bright orange, yellow and salmon and crimson. So they were now, blooms as big as a man's fist, a bright spray of color, right in the middle of a world that had lost its vibrancy.

Squall was in favor of planting the roses, but he suggested something more uniform, all one shade perhaps, but Rinoa insisted on all the colors. He changed his mind when they all bloomed at once.

She hadn't told Ella that Squall was dead. She didn't know how. When Rinoa's mother passed away, her father's explanation didn't help her understand that dead meant gone forever. He hadn't explained anything, really. He said Julia had gone to Heaven, and for a few years, Rinoa believed Heaven was a place she could visit, and that her mother would eventually come back one day.

It took a goldfish named Sunset and a kind housekeeper's explanation about why Sunset stopped swimming to teach her what  _dead_ meant. Only then, did she grasp what really happened to her mother.

Rinoa did not want that to be Ella's experience with her father's death. She did not want her daughter believing in false ideas or hoping for something that wouldn't happen. How was she supposed to explain it in terms Ella would understand?

Zell sat down beside her and placed a cup of tea on the small table between them and followed her gaze out to the rose bushes. His hands drummed on the arm rests and he shifted in his seat, incapable of sitting still.

"I wish you'd say something, Rin," he said. "I'm worried about you."

What was there to say? Squall was dead and it was impossible to find words that could express how awful that felt.

"Are you still mad we wouldn't let you see him?"

She was more than mad. She was furious. No matter how bad it was, she deserved to see him one last time, to see with her own eyes, and say goodbye.

The only thing left was his ring, but it hadn't been returned to her yet. She was angry about that, too.

"Ella's asking for him," Zell said. "It's time to tell her. She knows something's up."

Rinoa ground at her eyes and stood. She ignored Zell's mournful gaze because it would only make it hurt more. Everyone was grieving, but Rinoa couldn't handle her own sorrow, let alone theirs.

"Rin-"

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out.

She didn't mean to say it. Not out loud, not right now, but the words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.

"...oh."

She was too tired to cry this time. Too angry. It was so  _unfair._  Squall would never get see his child, and that child would never get to know his or her father. It was unfair that Rinoa would have to rebuild her life without Squall in it. She hadn't a clue where to start.

"I... I don't know what to do."

"You're not thinking of..."

"No," she whispered. "Never. I just – I don't know how I'm supposed to get through this."

Zell got up, gently turned her to face him and put his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, Rin. About all of it."

Sorry didn't change anything, but Zell's embrace was welcome. She leaned into him, closed her eyes and let him enfold her in a tight hug.

"Whatever you need, okay?" Zell said. "A babysitter. A cook, a shoulder to cry on, just ask and I'll be there. For you and the kids."

* * *

Ella didn't take the news well. Rinoa did her best to explain, but Ella didn't understand. When she finally got that Squall was never coming home, she burst into tears and fled the room. Rinoa followed her to her bedroom and crawled into the princess bed beside her and held her until she stopped crying.

"Can we go see him?"

"No, sweetie," Rinoa said. "We can't see him anymore."

"But I want him to come home!"

Rinoa wanted him home too. She wanted this nightmare to end, but it was slowly dawning on her that it was really real.

The day of the funeral, Rinoa didn't want to get out of bed. She'd held it together long enough to make the arrangements, and to buy a dress, but now that it was here, all she wanted to do was hide under her blankets and pretend this was just a bad dream. She would wake up and find Squall beside her, that he was whole and strong and healthy and nothing bad happened.

Ellone convinced her to get out of bed with a cup of decaf coffee and a gentle but firm hand, helped her into her dress and pinned her hair up into a tight, elegant knot. Rinoa stared at her reflection for the first time in days and took note of the dark circles under her eyes, her sallow complexion and how thin and drawn her face was.

"I don't want to lecture, but you have to take care of yourself," Ellone said. "Squall wouldn't want to see you like this."

"But he can't see me, can he?" Rinoa said. "How would he know?"

Ellone's hands smoothed over the shoulders of Rinoa's dress.

"Does that matter?" Ellone asked. "He'd tell you to get on with it. Do what needs to be done. To take care of yourself and your daughter."

Ellone was right, but that didn't make it any easier. It was one thing to say and another thing to do.

"Just take it one day at a time," Ellone said. "That's all you can do."

Zell peeked into the room, Ella on his hip. He was in full formal SeeD dress, his hair slicked back and his shoes polished to a mirror shine.

"Laguna's here," he said. "Limo's waiting, whenever you're ready."

Ellone offered Rinoa a thin black shawl as she stood. It was a beautiful piece of fabric, and any other time, Rinoa would feel beautiful wearing it. Today, it was a funeral shroud, something to hide behind. Her heart still beat, she still breathed, but the best parts of herself were gone.

In the limo, Ella clambered into her grandfather's lap. Laguna greeted her with a tight, fierce hug and a kiss.

"How's my girl?" Laguna asked.

"Is there going to be cake?"

Laguna smiled in spite of the heavy mood.

"Probably," he said. "There's usually lots and lots of food."

Ella was too young to fully grasp the gravity of the situation. For her, death and all the things that came with it were abstract and intangible. Even if Rinoa did her best to explain, it might be years before Ella truly understood.

The auditorium was decked out in flowers and there was seating for a thousand. Up on the low stage, Squall's casket sat on a low riser, surrounded by more flowers and a rather large photo of Squall in uniform. It was not an official Garden ID photo but a rare image of Squall's close-lipped smile, his face soft and relaxed, and Rinoa was surprised Cid had chosen it.

As she took her seat, she stared at the photo, then at the casket.

He was in there. What was left of him.

It took everything she had in her to remain seated. She used to laugh at the women in the movies, the ones who threw themselves upon the coffin to weep and plead with the fates, but now that she was in that woman's shoes, it didn't seem so ridiculous.

Zell sat beside her as the room began to fill. It looked as though every seat would be taken. She spotted politicians from every nation, other important people, Zell's Ma, a famous actor or two, people from town, instructors, SeeDs he'd worked with, everybody.

The whole world showed up to pay their respects, but Rinoa never felt more alone.

People approached to offer their condolences, and Rinoa accepted them as calmly as she could, but inside she was breaking apart. For every offer of sympathy, the more she realized Squall would not walk through the door and admit to an elaborate prank. As it began to sink in, the coldness in her chest began to grow.

Cid opened with a speech about the perils of life as a SeeD, and spoke of the courage it took to face the challenges of command. Rinoa only half-listened and cradled Ella against her. This was the last place Rinoa wanted to be and the last thing she wanted was to listen to a bunch of people talk about Squall like they really knew him. They only knew parts of him. The Commander. The SeeD. They didn't know the man behind all that. They barely knew him at all.

When Zell spoke, Rinoa paid attention, if only because what Zell had to say was heartfelt and not lip service.

"The three precepts of Garden life are this: Work hard. Study hard. Play hard. Squall was the embodiment of the first two. No one can argue that, but there was another side to him.

"Maybe y'all don't know this, but Squall was one hell of a card player. Didn't matter what regional rules were in play, he destroyed anyone who dared to challenge him, including all the members of our illustrious and super-secret Card Club... that I guess isn't a secret now. Sorry, guys," Zell said to a bit of laughter. "Anyone who played him and lost usually wound up unsure of how it happened and a handful of cards lighter."

That was the truth. There wasn't much Squall liked more than to win himself a rare card to add to his collection. Rinoa suspected he liked the collection better than he actually liked playing, but he never admitted it.

"He got to be that good because he worked hard, he studied the rules and applied those precepts to the things he enjoyed," Zell said. "And what he enjoyed, he enjoyed quietly but fiercely. He loved to win, but he never gloated about it."

Zell sobered and cast a glance back at the photo behind him before he continued.

"It's a gamble. Playing cards. Being a SeeD. One little thing can change the whole outcome of a hand or a mission," Zell said. "Squall knew that, and I'd like to think he understood that sometimes, we have to play by someone else's rules, sometimes we don't understand the game, and all we can do is adapt and try to see it through to the end."

Rinoa's eyes filled with unexpected tears and she clutched Ella tighter.

"But I don't want to talk too much about how he died," Zell said. "I'd rather talk about how he lived and how there were parts of him few people in this world got to see. Most of you only saw the Commander. You didn't get to see the man he was off the clock, Squall the husband, the father, the friend. He was a hard man to know, but for those of us who knew him, I can say with complete sincerity, he loved as fiercely as he fought."

A painful lump formed in Rinoa's throat as Zell reached for a bundle, left the podium and came down to face her. He dropped to a knee and offered the bundle to Ella. It was a flag, folded in thirds and tucked neatly at the edges.

"This flag flew every day your daddy was commander of Garden," Zell said to Ella. "Now it's yours, so keep it safe for us, okay?"

Ella didn't comprehend it, but Rinoa did. She placed her hand on top of the folded bundle and swallowed back her tears.

"We will," Rinoa promised. "Say thank you, Ella."

"Thank you, Uncle Zell," she said.

Zell took Rinoa's hand and turned it palm up. He placed something cool and heavy in her palm and curled her fingers around it. When she opened them, the tears spilled down her cheeks and she wept openly at the pair of rings in her palm. One a wedding band, the other the head of a lion.

"I figured you'd want those back."

The weight of them was like the weight of a thousand stones. Sorrow broke through the numbness and she began to cry so hard, she could barely see. Before her, Zell's face dissolved into a hazy watercolor of sunny gold and tan and navy. Someone's arm slid around her shoulders – Ellone, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

This was real.

Squall was really gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The first section of this contains some fairly graphic stuff, enough to stick this squarely in the M category. I'm going to go ahead and trigger warning the first section as dubious consent/sexual assault, even though it isn't clear what's really happening (and it isn't supposed to be at this point). There is also mention of child abuse.
> 
> It was incredibly uncomfortable to write. I'm pleased with how it turned out in spite of that, and I tried to keep it as ungratuitous as possible, but it's still ugly. If you are uncomfortable with implied (insert either or both of the above), please skip to the first break. The scene is important to the plot, but I also understand that not everyone wants to read it.

 

6

* * *

Squall woke to the sensation of something warm and wet against his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and reeled away from it, as far as he could get from the source. The sharp jerk of chains around his partially healed wrists was painful enough to rip a cry from his throat and he cowered against the wall in anticipation of the next blow or burn or whatever was in store for him next. He'd become little more than an abused pet, and he learned to cower in the face of kindness and cruelty alike.

"Let me clean you up," a soft, girlish voice said. "You haven't had a bath in a month."

A whole month? It felt an eternity longer, years now, decades.

"Don't touch me," he hissed.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

That was probably a lie. They lied a lot, tried to make him believe Rinoa and Ella were their prisoners, but would provide no proof, and tried to convince him SeeD wasn't looking anymore, had declared him dead.

He buried his face in his knees as she reached for him again. He wouldn't look at her, he would retreat again, into some sweeter time, some memory that could sustain him through whatever she had in store for him. Fantasy, daydreams, memories – those were easier, they gave him something to hold onto, something to keep fighting for. Without them, he would have found some way to carry out his own death weeks ago.

The tinkling of water, the touch of the cloth to his skin, the scent of something clean – his senses heightened as the odor of unwashed flesh and stale sweat emanated from his body.

"Leave the rag," he said. "I can do it myself."

That was a lie. He barely had strength to keep his head up, couldn't stand on his own. His arms were like twigs and what was left of his muscles ached in protest at the slightest movement. How the hell did he think he could manage to wash himself?

"Just relax," she said. "If you behave, maybe I'll take care of your leg before it's too late to save it. I'd prefer to keep you in one piece for as long as possible."

Squall endured her attentions because there was no other choice. He couldn't fight back.

Her hands were gentle, the cloth abrasive, as she scrubbed away a month's worth of grime and filth from his arms and torso and face and hair. He protested when she stripped away his pants and left him bare and exposed, but he drifted in and out of consciousness as her tender touch and soft words lulled him to sleep.

… _.her touch grows more intimate, fingers wrap around him, stroke him and he cringes at his involuntary arousal. He's ached for this for too long, been denied his wife's touch, and he needs release before he splinters apart. Desire poisons his mind as her touch becomes bolder, more intensely pleasurable and he pants softly with each stroke of her palm against him. It feels good, too good to be a dream, and he smells Rinoa's perfume in the air around him. She always knew when he needed her, when his brain was too full of work and politics, she could always coax him into unwinding..._

"What have they done to you?" she asked.

Her voice was too familiar, too close to his heart. When he dared look, Rinoa knelt before him, all worry and concern and too good to be true.

Bruises bloomed across his torso, over his arms and legs like crushed flowers, purple and green and yellow, and her fingers brushed over them to steal away the pain with her magic. It flowed into him, filled his chest, warmed his sunken belly and eased the ache in his muscles.

"Why don't you come home, Squall?"

He was hallucinating.

Sliding into fantasy when the pain was too great was one thing, but now his mind conjured specters where there were none. The rational part of him knew it wasn't real. It couldn't be. If she was here, she would destroy everything, burned it all, kill everyone to release him, and there were still shackles around his wrists.

It was a hallucination, and that almost didn't matter. If all that was left of his remaining days was pain and suffering, he would gladly imagine her there to comfort him in his final hours.

_...slender fingers lace through his wet hair and soft lips feather over his shoulder. Squall melts under her touch, tries to hold onto her, to show her how much he needs her..._

"It's okay, baby," she said. "I'm here now."

"You're not real."

"I'm as real as you are," she promised. "Please let me help you."

… _.soft kisses win him over, convince him little by little that she is there, that the hands on his wasted arms and torso belong to his wife, that the sweetness of her mouth was not his twisted imagination come to life. She eases him down on a blanket, a bed_ – oh, hyne has there ever been a bed so soft - _that wasn't there before and she crawls over him, leaving a trail of kisses and stardust down his chest and abdomen. A delicious warmth coils in his stomach and he tries to hold her but she slips away from him, the curve of her waist sex incarnate. She loves him, she loves him, and he needs every touch every breath every kiss to survive..._

"Please, Rin," he murmured. "Please."

"I'm here, baby," she said. Lips pressed to his and he curled one chained arm around her waist to hold her closer. "You're safe now."

Squall didn't know what safe was anymore, but as her body pressed against his and her arms welcomed him, he knew comfort.

_...she slides back up to his lips and the touch of bare flesh against his own is as agonizing as it is pleasurable. Just the effort of kissing her back is draining. The weight of the shackles around his wrists make it impossible to hang on and she slides through his grasp like silk and gossamer. His mind is drugged but his body responds to every touch and it energizes him. Pain melts away like warm honey and his body is whole and strong again..._

"I missed you," she said. "I missed you so much."

There were no words to say how much he missed her. All he could give was himself, but he was so tired, all he wanted to do was curl up in her arms and sleep forever.

"Just let me do all the work this time, okay?" she said. "You don't have to do anything."

 _...some last reserve of energy swells in him and he sits up, no longer chained, his wrists unbound, and he sweeps his arms around her waist and pins her to the bed beneath him. She cries out as he takes her with uncharacteristic urgency, with one forceful thrust that steals his breath away and it says everything words can not. Her legs wrap tight around his waist, her fingers tug at his hair, teeth nip at his lips_ -come home please come home I love you -  _and it feels so good, it can't be a dream. He will die if none of this is real..._

Rinoa's chin lifted toward the ceiling and he dragged his lips over her throat, tasted her skin as her nails dug deep into his shoulders. Never before had he loved her with this kind of unbridled, ferocious need, never had he been so rough, but her gasps and cries only spurred him on. She wanted him this way, out of control, begging for mercy. His Sorceress, his life, it was all wrapped up in this moment. Live or die, he would always belong to her

… _wanted, had to have release, his mind is dull with lust as he drives into her, kisses her, moans into her neck to kill all the realities too painful to face. He grabs a fistful of her hair as he feels the flutter of her muscles around him, and the sound of her climax rings in his ears..._

Squall surrounded her, held her close. His heart beat to a crescendo and he pressed a wordless and breathless cry into her hair as he came, powerless to stop his forceful and uneven thrusts into her until the last beat of pleasure pulsed through him and rendered his savaged body drained and weak.

_...this is home, in her arms, and he would never leave them again..._

He drifted, the room around him flickered in and out, but her hands soothed him, gave him the kind of comfort he hadn't felt in a month.

When he finally lifted his head to look down at his wife, to kiss her lips, expressionless eyes the color of mercury stared up at him, ice blonde hair spilled across the floor. Everything about her was  _wrong_. Fingers curled damp strands of hair behind his ears and he blinked stupidly down at the stranger in his arms.

"You saw what you wanted to see, Squall."

* * *

The rest of the memorial went by in a blur of speeches and prayers and fond memories. Rinoa, though invited to say something, couldn't bring herself to do it. She'd lost her voice along with her will to stand tough, and she'd declined the invitation and sat through it with Squall's rings clutched tightly in her fist.

Rinoa followed behind the casket as it was carried outside by a crew of six: Quistis, Laguna, Irvine, Xu, Selphie and Zell all ferried her husband to his final place of rest, an honor reserved for those who meant the most, all friends and family, people who cared about him, or at least respected him. Rinoa wouldn't have it any other way.

She noted that of all the people who should have been there, Edea was conspicuously absent. It was curious that the only mother Squall had ever known, the reason he'd become a SeeD, had not come to pay her respects. Was it grief and guilt that kept her away? Duty to the White SeeDs while Ellone was absent? Had she not been told?

Edea's absence left Rinoa's mind as they arrived outside in the small cemetery behind Garden. It was not Rinoa's choice that he be buried here. A contractual agreement with Garden and its operatives required those lost to war while in service be laid to rest on Garden property, as though even in death, he belonged to them.

Squall, like so many others killed in the line of duty, would be buried among his own kind and his name added to the pillar in the center along with all the other young men and women that died too young.

And for what? Many had lost their lives in battle, some during field exams or in defense of various causes both good and bad. Squall had died for a training exercise. A goddamn training exercise, and for  _what_? Nobody even knew why he'd died and it was so senseless and depraved, Rinoa couldn't wrap her head around it.

Anger brewed in Rinoa's heart and it briefly overshadowed her grief as she watched Squall's casket be lowered into the earth. The hole was deep and smelled of dirt and dampness. He would be all alone down there, and for Rinoa, it was almost unbearable to think of him lying in darkness, in a place she could not be buried with him when her time came.

She'd fought like hell to prove to him he wasn't alone, but as the old saying went, you come into the world alone and you die alone, and Squall had been right in the end.

Some guests offered tributes of flowers, and tossed them upon the casket lid. Others offered small, folded pieces of paper, others a fistful of dirt. Ella offered her favorite dinosaur, an orange plushie that was missing one eye.

"So he'll have a friend," Ella explained. "I don't want him to be lonely down there."

Rinoa choked back tears and smoothed her hands over Ella's hair, straightened her headband and let her palms rest on Ella's slight shoulders.

"That's very sweet of you, Ella," she murmured. "I'm sure your daddy will like that."

To Rinoa's surprise, Xu stepped up to the grave, removed the ribbon awarded for participation in the war and tossed it into the casket. She watched it fall, then lifted her gaze to Rinoa and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.

Every single SeeD followed her lead and added their own ribbons to the collection of items amassed on the casket. The otherwise silent day was filled with a ratting cacophony as the small rectangles of fabric and metal pelted the lid. Rinoa pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing. She doubted Squall ever realized how much respect the people under his command had for him. It would never occur to him that it mattered.

"Pre- _sent_!" Xu called out, and every SeeD, in unison, turned to Rinoa and Ella and offered a salute.

At her side, Zell faced her in salute, jaw clenched and his baby-blue eyes rimmed in red. Not so far away, Seifer Almasy saluted her in Estharin military fashion. Irvine removed his hat and placed it over his heart.

If it had been acceptable to fall on her knees and weep, she would have done it. It was beautiful and wonderful and Squall would absolutely  _hate_ it. All this fanfare, for him, and he would have hated every second of it. He'd never wanted or needed their admiration, but by virtue of being who he was, he'd earned this.

Later, in the ballroom, Cid hosted a reception for Rinoa to receive condolences and greetings from their guests. It was the last thing she wanted to do. All she wanted was to go home, curl up under a blanket with Ella wrapped tight in her arms and sleep or cry for the next week.

She stumbled her way through all the well wishes, numbed by the repetition.  _So sorry, he died too young, yes, thank you, I'm doing as well as can be expected._  She didn't know even half these people, but they all spoke of Squall's steady hand and his bravery and his reliability in command.

Everyone, except her father.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said stiffly.

"Thank you," she said.

He clasped her hand in both of his and stared down at her with flinty, dark eyes that betrayed nothing but cool professionalism. He would not offer comfort, and she didn't expect him to.

"This is why I didn't want you involved with him, Rinoa," he said. "I knew, sooner or later you would have to face this."

Rinoa's lips parted in surprise at his stony delivery and she blinked up at him as his words settled in her stomach like bricks. People occasionally remarked on the similarities between Squall and her father, but they were less alike than they seemed on the surface. Deep down, Rinoa knew Caraway loved her, but unlike Squall, he'd never learned to show it. She doubted, he'd ever bothered to try.

"How can you even say that to me right now?" she murmured.

"If your daughter married a man like him, I'm sure he would feel the same way," Caraway said. "My heart breaks for you, sweetheart, and I'm very sorry it ended this way. I had hoped for something different."

Rinoa turned away from him and fled the ballroom, to the balcony where the mid-afternoon sunlight was too bright and the air too warm. She expected Caraway would follow to continue his lecture but it was Laguna who joined her instead.

Laguna folded her up in a fatherly embrace, the kind she'd desperately craved from her own father and never got.

"Strangers have been kinder to me than my own father," she said.

"I'm sure he meant well," Laguna said. "People don't always know the right thing to say at times like this. I'm sure he didn't mean it the way it came out."

"He meant it," Rinoa said. "His way of saying  _I told you so_. I don't know why I'm hurt by it. I shouldn't have expected anything else."

She pulled away from Laguna and went to sit on the small concrete bench overlooking the plains and wiped her tired, swollen eyes. She was just about out of tears.

"You know, you're welcome to come stay with me in Esthar," he said. "You and Ella. For as long as you want. Forever, if you like."

"Thank you, but I have a home and a business here," she said. "I have to try and move on, I guess. Squall would want that, right?"

"I suppose he would, but the offer stands if you ever need a getaway. Consider it an open invitation to visit any time you want."

"Thanks," she said. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as the wind picked up. "I know Squall never said it, but he loved you. I hope you know that."

Laguna wiped his eyes and turned his face away so that she wouldn't see him cry. As if she'd judge him for that.

"I figured out a long time ago, any time he said _You're a moron_ , it meant he loved me," Laguna said. "At least, that's what I tell myself."

In spite of herself, Rinoa laughed. It wasn't far from the truth. In the years since they'd first met, it had almost become a term of endearment.

"A little bird told me I can expect a new grandkid soon," he said. "Is it true?"

"It's true," Rinoa said. "I'm due in May."

"Did he know?" Laguna asked. "Before he left?"

"I found out after," she said. "If he'd known, maybe he would have fought harder..."

"Don't say that," Laguna said. "You know better than that. He would have moved the earth and hell to come back to you if he could, baby on the way or not. He loved you and Ella. He loved you so much, Rin."

"He was a good father," Rinoa said quietly. "I know he would love this one, too."

"Yeah," Laguna agreed. "Of course he would."

Then he laughed.

"Squall, guess what?" he said in a high pitched imitation of Rinoa's voice. He clasped his hands under his chin and blinked at her with big, innocent eyes. "We're going to have a baby!"

Rinoa immediately caught on to Laguna's game. It was something they'd done for years behind Squall's back an it had been a source of endless entertainment for the two of them.

"...whatever," she said with a bored shrug. "Make sure you take your vitamins and get plenty of exercise."

Laguna laughed and slipped an arm around her, squeezing tightly as Rinoa laid her head against his shoulder.

"See, that's is why I love you, Rin," Laguna said. He sobered and bowed his head. "Hyne, I'm going to miss him. Glad for the years I got, but, it's just not enough."

* * *

Zell found Rinoa alone on the balcony, her eyes on the puffy white clouds above. To Zell it seemed wrong for it to be such a pretty day. The sunshine offended him. It was an affront to his senses, and seemed particularly cruel of mother nature to deny Squall a sky that wept along with those that had lost him.

Sunshine or not, the brisk wind carried a hint of chill with it, the first sign of the winter that would play hide and seek well into January, warm, then cold and back to warm until the rains came and the island was drenched six days out of seven by a steady drizzle that didn't let up until April.

Every so many years, it snowed. Rarely more than an inch or two, but Zell remembered two winters when the heavens dumped a foot and a half over the whole island and nobody knew what to do. The first year, Zell was fourteen.

The second time was the year after the war, the same year his two best friends got married, and his other two best friends broke up.

It always snowed hard the years that big things happened. Maybe, it would snow this winter, too.

"How are you holding up?" he asked. He already knew the answer, but the silence had gotten to him.

"Honestly?" she asked. "I'm exhausted. I feel like such a fraud, lying to people about how I'm handling things."

"You don't need to lie to me," Zell said. "I'd know better anyway."

She was pale and her eyes were puffy and Zell wondered if she'd eaten at all. She'd skipped breakfast, and they'd all skipped lunch. He doubted she'd helped herself to the shrimp tarts and caviar on toast and delicate cucumber sandwiches offered inside.

Well, he would just have to make sure she had something before they left or if not, once they got home. He'd noticed she hadn't eaten much in days, which he might have let go if there wasn't a little one on the way.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" she said. "Something that has nothing to do with all this?"

"Sure," he said. "Ask me anything."

"I've heard you talk about your dad before, but it occurred to me, I've never met him and I don't really know much about him," she said. "I was just wondering..."

Zell sat on the bench beside her and leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. He purposely kept his comments about his Pa vague for years, even when the man was still alive.

"He died when I was fourteen," Zell admitted.

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking," Rinoa said. "I thought maybe your parents were divorced or something because you never really mentioned that part."

"I don't talk about it," he said. "You know Balamb does a lot of trade in seafood, well, there's this plant down past the docks that's basically a giant refrigerator, where they store fish and stuff before it gets shipped off to Dollet or wherever. He worked there. For years."

Zell rolled up the sleeves of his uniform jacket and ran his hands over his tattooed forearms. He realized he'd never said this much about his Pa at one time, to anyone.

"It's really cold in there, like, a degree above freezing, and you can get really sick after a while," Zell said. "Fluid starts to build up in your lungs if you're constantly in it for ten hours a day the way he was. Anyway, he didn't take care of himself and he got pneumonia and it was like, two months before the idiot went to the doctor. He died the next morning."

"I didn't know," Rinoa said. "I'm so sorry."

"Nobody really knows about it. Never really brought it up, " Zell said. "Anyway, it was probably for the best. He, ah... he wasn't a nice man. He worked hard every day of his life, but he wasn't what anyone would call kind."

"He was mean to you?"

Zell had never said any of this out loud. It wasn't like it mattered anymore. The man had fifteen years in the grave, he'd ceased to be anything more than a memory.

"Sometimes," he said. "He came from the  _spare the rod, spoil the child_  school of childrearing. My Ma did too, but she had this wooden spoon with my name written on it. Hurt my pride more than anything, and it wasn't often, but my old man liked to use his fists."

Rinoa's hand curled around his forearm and she looked at him with so much sympathy, Zell was disgusted with himself for saying anything at all. He could have been vague, like he usually was, he could have just shrugged it off, but he was compelled to confess in spite of himself.

"I mean, hell, I get why he did it. I was a pain in the ass and I did stupid things, you know? And he worked hard all his life to provide for his family, and here I was, this dumb kid that wasn't even his, climbing all over everything and yelling about stuff all the time."

His eyes fixed on the stone floor at his feet. He remembered one time, about a year before the old man had passed, Pa had cuffed Ma on the cheek with the back of his hand. Ma's normal reaction to this was to retaliate, either with a frying pan or her heavy wooden rolling pin upside his head, but before she could, Zell had launched himself at his father and for the first time in his life, hit back.

That had felt amazing and really awful at the same time. Zell's own anger had scared him, and he knew, if he was stronger, he might have killed him. Hell, if his Pa had lived, maybe it would have come to that.

But the man never raised a hand to Zell's Ma again.

"You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," she said. "It's okay if you don't."

"It's fine," he said mildly. "It was a long time ago. But, you know? He's probably the reason I react to people like Seifer the way I do. He's probably also the reason I wanted to fight, and why I like it so much."

Rinoa looked at him in surprise.

"That's really introspective."

"I think about stuff more than any of you guys give me credit for," Zell said. "Just because I didn't close myself off like Squall did, doesn't mean there aren't parts of me I don't want people to see."

* * *

Seifer was well on his way to drunk as he pushed his way through idiots who didn't have the decency to shut up about their personal politics or their business bullshit for a few hours and ducked into the hall in search of the restroom. He'd never been in this part of Garden, being that he'd never attended any of the social gatherings and he hadn't passed a field exam and had been uninvited to all the ceremonies.

Being drunk didn't help.

A little lost, he hung a left down a short, narrow hallway that terminated in a luxurious waiting area. He was about to step inside when he heard raised voices.

"You knew the consequences of borrowing money from us, Kramer," a deep baritone voice said. "You've got no one to blame but yourself."

"You didn't have to kill him," Cid said. "He had nothing to do with this."

Seifer froze and pressed his back to the wall, crouched low behind a fake palm tree and listened in. His mind was already working, even with the heavy thrum of too much alcohol flowing through his veins.

"Who said we killed him?"

There was a long and loaded silence and Seifer waited, not so patiently, for Cid's response.

"You certainly left enough evidence," Cid said.

"We certainly did," the mystery man said. "Whatever conclusions you drew from that is on you."

"Goddamn it, the cloak and dagger bullshit is getting old," Cid said. "I told you I'd find a way to pay you back. All you had to do was trust me -"

"Trust you? Why would I do that?" the man said. "You sell child soldiers to the highest bidder. Who could trust a man with so little conscience he's okay with training little orphaned kids to murder people?"

"You financed it, you son of a bitch!" Cid bellowed. "Don't give me that crap. Just tell me what I need to do to end this."

The mystery man gave a low, humorless chuckle.

"Pay us back in full," he said. "If not, my boss will hunt down your wife and do the same thing we did to Leonhart. Except when she bites the dust, I'll make sure to send her head back to you in a basket."

"I swear to Hyne-"

"Your threats don't work on me," the man said. "You have two weeks. After that, everything you love is fair game."

Heavy footsteps came closer and Seifer glanced around for a hiding spot. There was none. He took a chance and stepped out from behind the palm and wandered into the room like he was lost. The mystery man came around the corner just as Seifer walked into the room. The man barreled into Seifer and knocked him sideways.

It wasn't entirely for show when Seifer stumbled over his own feet and crashed into a fancy, high-backed chair. It was half drunkenness, half in surprise at the man's appearance.

For starters, he wasn't a man.

"Excuse you," Seifer slurred. "Asshole."

The plump Shumi said nothing and continued on his way, but Seifer memorized the details. Weird, pale yellow-greenish-brown complexion, taller than any Shumi Seifer had encountered, and bordering on obese. If this was a guest, Seifer had somehow missed him, but he doubted that was possible. It would be hard not to notice a 400 pound Shumi among the crowd, no matter how inconspicuous he tried to be. Never mind a Shumi that spoke with human cadences and phrasing. That in itself was unusual, even among those that had mainstreamed.

He muttered curses to himself and moved further into the room in search of the man with the answers.

He found Cid slumped in a chair by the wall, his head in his hands. Seifer had no sympathy for the man. All along, Cid had known more about this than he'd said, and it had likely cost Leonhart his life, and if not that, certainly his sanity. All those pieces of evidence had been confirmed. That meant, if some strange cover-up was in progress, these assholes had actually pulled teeth and cut off minor extremities in order to make it look real.

And if Leonhart was alive and Cid and put Rinoa through the hell of a funeral, he would pay. If Leonhart was dead and had been killed over a dispute about money, Cid would suffer. Seifer would make sure of that.

"What the hell was that?"

"...you heard?"

"I heard, so you better start explaining. Right now."


	7. Chapter 7

7

* * *

"You saw what you wanted to see," she said.

On the other side of the room, the woman with the mercury eyes watched him, a satisfied smile on her face. Impossible to tell her age in the darkness, but that was less important than what had just happened.

Squall didn't even know exactly what he'd experienced, but every second of it had felt so real. Up until the moment when he found a stranger in his arms, he'd believed it a vivid fantasy and nothing more.

"I imagine, if you were strong and whole, you'd be quite an impressive lover," she said.

Squall pressed his face into his knees and shook his head to deny her unspoken suggestion that it had been real. She was fully clothed, and it wasn't possible that she'd dressed so quickly. He couldn't remember her leaving his embrace, or how she'd gotten to the other side of the room.

"What do you want from me?" he asked.

"You've served your purpose, for now," she said.

"Then let me go."

"I didn't say you wouldn't have a purpose in the future," she said. "Besides, your wife and daughter believe you're dead. The whole world thinks you're dead. I heard half the planet showed up to see you put in the ground."

"That's a lie."

"Oh, but it isn't," she said. She wandered toward him and dragged a hand along the wall, looked at the dust on her fingers, and wiped them on her dress. It was blue, Rinoa's favorite shade. "You were a well respected man."

Spiders, thousands upon thousands of spiders scuttled up the wall in the wake of her touch. They crawled across the ceiling and the floor, up Squall's bare legs and arms and he hissed as he batted them away. They were in his hair, on his face, his back, his chest, everywhere and they grew steadily larger right before his eyes.

"I can make you see anything," she said. "I can make you believe anything. Even the impossible."

Silken strands of web wound around his feet and legs, and Squall flailed to free himself before he became entangled. His effort was weak, and it only served to further ensnare him.

"Stop this," he said. "Get them off me."

"Poor Squall. Too weak to fight back," she said. "What ever will he do?"

One thing was crystal clear to Squall, even if nothing else made sense. This woman was his worst nightmare. There were plenty of times during the course of his imprisonment that he'd been afraid, but her cold mercury eyes terrified him. He was scared shitless of her, whoever she was.

Squall gave up the fight and leaned into the wall, shuddering as the army of spiders moved across his skin. Like Rinoa, this could not be real. He would wait it out, let her have her fun, and she would get bored if he didn't react.

"I wonder, how long before that pretty wife of yours moves on?" she asked. "I hear Almasy's skulking about. Maybe she'll give him another shot. Or perhaps it will be your best friend, there to comfort her in her time of need. My money's on Almasy, but your friend is a bit of an underdog and I can't resist rooting for an underdog."

"Shut up," Squall said through gritted teeth. "Just shut up."

"They're very close, aren't they?" she asked as a spider made its way over Squall's cheekbone and into his hair. His hands made weak fists in his lap. "Your wife and your friend. I imagine, one night they'll wind up in bed together. Maybe they'll be a little drunk, so they can blame it on the alcohol. She didn't mean to, but she was lonely, and he'd been such a good, kind man, so good to her and your children in your absence."

Squall pressed his lips together as a spider crawled up the back of his neck. Another settled over his mouth and nose, legs twitching against his skin. He didn't know what to focus on. Her vile words or the spiders. Both were horrors that tugged at the most primal parts of his psyche.

"Picture it, Squall," she said. "Doesn't it just break your heart?"

… _.they are dancing under paper lanterns, under a inky sky full of stars, and a warm breeze lifts strands of Rinoa's hair as Zell guides her across the makeshift dance floor in Balamb's town square. There is warmth and love in his eyes as he looks down at her, and she smiles back at him. They are almost the same height, she doesn't have to look up to see him, and when he pulls her closer, she allows it and rests her chin against his shoulder. His nose and lips graze over her temple, arms fold her into him, and then her face is in Zell's hands, and he is kissing her sweetly but eagerly and she kisses him back, her cheeks flushed and her body pressed close to his..._

"Stop!" Squall shouted and he covered his head to block out the images that seemed way too detailed to be a lie. This is worse than the spiders, without a doubt, it was so much worse.

"I'll stop when I feel like it," she said. "Want to see more?"

"No, goddamnit," Squall said. "It's all a lie. All of it."

"Maybe, maybe not," she said.

_...Squall stands in his bedroom, at home, where his wife, his best friend, lay tangled together on the bed, bathed in warm light cast by the lamp on the nightstand. He wants to close his eyes, but he can't look away as clothing is shed with haste. A shirt, a bra, both land at his feet on the floor amid soft sighs and murmurs and heady breaths between kisses. Zell's hands and mouth are all over her, and he murmurs,_ I love you _, and she says it back and he kisses her hard, passionately, as their bodies begin to move together in a steady rhythm..._

Squall growled into his knees and he forced the images out of his head. None of that was real. None of it was real, not real, couldn't be, not real.

Not. Real.

But it was less a stretch of the imagination, than a possibility. Under these circumstances, if he really was presumed dead, it was less unlikely than Squall wanted to believe.

"What are you?" he whispered.

"I'm glad you asked," she said. "You might be thinking I'm a Sorceress but you'd be wrong. I have talents, not unlike those of your dear sister, Ellone. Except mine are  _much_  better. I can bend reality, make your fantasies come true, or give you a nightmare you never wake from, all while you're wide awake and you'd never know the difference."

… _.I can make you believe, Squall. Anything I want. Anything at all. I can make it seem so real, you're not sure what's only in your head, and you will never be sure what is a lie and what is truth..._

After she left him, Squall curled into a ball on the thin, scratchy blanket she'd left behind, and for the first time since the whole thing began, he cried. Not for the pain or hunger or for his wasted body, not for the horrible situation he was in, but out of fear the things he'd done to her were real. It was impossible to be sure, to know which things were actually happening and which were the result of her mind-fuck.

She'd tainted the one thing he'd held onto to keep from giving up or going insane. His one comfort was now poisoned by uncertainty, by possible infidelity on his part, implied on Rinoa's, and he had nothing solid left to hang onto.

* * *

After the memorial, Rinoa's closest friends gathered at the house. She wasn't in the mood for company, but she didn't want to be alone either, so she didn't send them home. It was better to have people around, if only to stave off the quiet that would settle in once she was alone.

She sat at the table in the kitchen, picking at a plate of macaroni and cheese and a slice of cake Zell smuggled out of the reception. Neither were appetizing. She needed to eat, but she only moved the noodles around the plate, sampled the frosting, and thought about how she would never share a meal with Squall again.

"You look like you could use a drink," Irvine said as he took a seat, bottle of beer in hand. "A good strong one."

"I could use one," she admitted. "But, I'll pass."

"No one's going to judge. If anybody's got a reason to get wasted tonight, it's you."

"I'm pregnant," she said flatly. "So, I'll have to pass."

"You're what?!" Selphie cried from the kitchen doorway. "When did you plan to tell me?!"

Rinoa pressed her hands over her face and cringed. She'd forgotten she hadn't made an announcement. It was something she should have done before now, but hadn't been able to bring herself to do. All their congratulations would be bittersweet in the face of Squall's demise.

Funny, how the thing he'd feared so much had come to pass.

"Sef," Zell said. "Let's not make a big deal of it right now."

Rinoa pushed her plate away and got up. She left the kitchen without a word and went out to the back patio, where she paced with her hands in her hair.

How was she supposed to manage all this? A household, a young child and a business? With another child on the way?

"Rin?"

On the verge of panic or hysteria, she turned to her friend and shook her head, for lack of anything rational to say.

"You okay?" he asked. "You look freaked out."

Freaked out. Wounded. Afraid. Out of her depth. Heartbroken. All those words applied. This was not okay, and she was not okay.

"What do I do now?" she asked. "I'm scared, Zell. Tell me what I'm supposed to do."

He closed the door and took a slow contemplative sip of his beer as he looked her over.

"You let your friends help you out," he said. "That's what we're here for."

"I can't ask -"

"I told you, you don't have to ask," he said. "Whatever you need. Don't ever be too proud to ask."

Rinoa pressed a hand to her stomach and closed her eyes. Squall's absence was a gaping hole right through the middle of her, a gunshot wound in a vital organ, and she was bleeding out. It hurt to breath, her lungs had collapsed, she was drowning...

"Hey," Zell said and put his hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, okay? We lost him too. You're not going through this alone, Rin. We're all going through it with you. Me, Quistis, Laguna, all of us, and we're not going to leave you floating in space on your own, trying to do everything by yourself. That's just not gonna happen. Okay?"

Panic fought for dominance over gratitude as Zell carefully drew her forward and folded her up in a tight hug. Her tears had run dry, but she shook with silent sobs for nearly a minute before she could get herself back under control. Who would have thought Zell would be the voice of reason?

"I won't tell you it's gonna be okay," he said. "But it is okay for you to not be okay, for as long as you need to be."

"I'm not okay."

"I know."

"I don't want to go back inside," she said as she pulled away. "It's too much."

"Want me to send everyone home?"

"Not yet," she said. "I just need quiet for a little while."

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"No."

Rinoa curled up in a deck chair and tried to think of anything else but this, but almost every thought led back to Squall. Ella's birthday was coming up. The yearly taxes, too. The car had started to make a funny rattling noise when she made right turns. The gutters needed cleaning.

She forced her mind away from everything domestic and thought about what Zell had told her earlier, about his father. It hurt her heart to know the man had been unkind, and she wished she hadn't brought it up. When she'd asked, she'd been thinking about Laguna and her own father, and maybe she'd been seeking proof that most fathers were more like Laguna rather than Caraway.

She'd expected to hear about a fun dad, someone who treated Zell like his own. It bothered her to know that wasn't the case. Something he'd said bothered her, too. About how he understood why his Pa had hit him. From the sound of it, Zell was just being a kid.

"Hey, Zell?" she said. "You know you didn't deserve to be hit, right? When you were little? That's not okay, no matter how bad you were."

Zell looked at his hands, at his palms, then turned them over to inspect his knuckles. He shrugged and took another swallow of his beer.

"I didn't really mean it like that," he said. "He didn't see it as anything but what was necessary to keep me in line. I used to take it so personal, but now that I'm older, I get that it wasn't. I'm not excusing it, but I can't stay pissed about it the rest of my life, either."

"Still, nobody deserves to be hit," Rinoa said. "And I'm sorry you had to go through that. There I was feeling sorry for myself because my dad's a cold-hearted stiff..."

"Is that really any better?" Zell wondered. "In my experience, silence hurts more than fists sometimes."

Wasn't that the truth?

"I'll tell you one thing," Zell said. "If I ever settle down, I'm never gonna be that guy. Not ever. I never want to be the guy that hits someone he loves."

* * *

Seifer climbed out of a taxi in front of the Leonhart residence, no longer drunk, but fuming mad after his chat with Cid Kramer. What little he'd gotten out of the man was just as Seifer suspected.

Money. Leonhart had suffered, had probably been killed because of Kramer's debts.

Seifer liked money, and all the things it could buy, but he had long ago decided that it was the second most evil thing in the world. The only thing more evil than money was corrupt sorcery, and in Seifer's experience, magic corruption was out of anyone's hands, including the Sorceress the power belonged to.

He'd seen people do stupid things over and for money. It was like a drug. Once someone got a taste, they weren't satisfied. They needed more and more and more. So they lied, stole, cheated and killed, they'd trade their mother and their first born for the opportunity to get rich quick. They borrowed too much on the promise of a greater return, spent more than they made, and it often ruined them.

Kramer had borrowed too much, and from the wrong people.

Seifer hadn't gotten much information out of the man, but he gathered these guys were much, much worse than NORG.

He banged on the front door and was greeted by Kinneas, who was dressed in all- black version of his usual ridiculous cowboy get-up.

"Almasy," Kinneas greeted. "Can I help you?"

Seifer scowled at him, annoyed that the man decided to play gate-keeper. Kinneas took up the entire doorway, one arm propped casually against the frame, the other gripped the door itself. There was no animosity between them, and they both knew, if it ever came to a fight, Kinneas didn't stand a chance. He was not a brawler, and never had been.

"I need to see Laguna," Seifer said. "It's urgent."

Seifer expected that he'd be left waiting on the step, but the cowboy sized him up and invited him in.

Tilmitt hung on Laguna's arm, her face rapt as Laguna told some war story Seifer had probably heard a thousand times by now. When he saw Seifer, he extracted himself from her grip and joined him in the foyer. For the first time, the man's face showed his age, his smile a forgery.

"We need to talk," Seifer said. "Is there somewhere private?"

"We can use Squall's office," Laguna said. "What's this about?"

"I'll tell you when there's no one listening in," Seifer said and inclined his head at the starry-eyed Selphie who had drifted in their direction. "Trust me when I say it's confidential."

The office was probably intended to be a den, but it had been converted into a home office and library. Bookshelves lined the walls and were packed full of novels and reference manuals and training guides. At the back of the room was a dark wood desk with a laptop and neatly arranged piles of paper. In one corner was a set of leather couches with a coffee table that looked as though they were rarely used.

Laguna closed the door and went to a small cabinet. He retrieved a bottle of Mimmet, poured a measure into two glasses and motioned for Seifer to have a seat.

As Laguna handed Seifer a glass, Seifer was at a loss as to where to begin. How did one tell a man who believed his son dead that maybe it was all a charade? Without proof or evidence beyond the word of a cowardly man with his own agenda? It wasn't as if Kramer had given Seifer much information. All he had was a weak explanation and the Shumi's insinuation that Squall might not be dead.

He explained what he'd walked in on, what he'd heard and the pathetic excuses Kramer had made for himself. Laguna was skeptical, but the small flicker of hope Seifer saw in the man's eyes made Seifer wish he hadn't brought it up without more evidence.

"It was definitely about money," Seifer said. "Kramer borrowed more than he could pay back, so they took Squall as collateral. They wanted Edea, but they can't find her, so Squall was the next best thing."

"Hit him where it hurts?" Laguna said.

"Exactly," Seifer said. "Thing is, I'm not convinced the man we buried today was Squall. It was too quick and tidy, and based on what the Shumi said I'm betting they made it look like him to send Kramer a message."

"But there were tests done," Laguna said.

"Yeah, on the peripheral evidence," Seifer said. "But nothing from the body confirmed, as far as I know. We didn't get dental record confirmation, no DNA, no x-rays. So what if the hair and tooth samples were a match? Don't you think it's possible they smeared some blood and tissues around to make it look like Squall, torched the body of some vagrant in hopes we'd assume it was him?"

"It's possible, but it seems far-fetched."

"You and I both know, Squall's more valuable alive," Seifer said. "They have nothing to gain by killing him."

"They have nothing to gain by keeping him alive when he's presumed dead, either."

Seifer took a swallow of his drink and stared at Laguna. He was no longer star-struck by the man, and over the years had come to respect him, but sometimes, Laguna was frustratingly naive.

"Of course they do," Seifer said. "They get Kramer's cooperation. The threat against Edea becomes very real. Whatever it is they want from him, he'll be a hell of a lot more willing to do whatever necessary to keep her safe. In the meantime, they keep Squall locked away somewhere and use him somehow later."

Laguna pushed a hand through his hair and got up. He went to the window, one hand braced against the frame and stared out at the dark landscape beyond.

"Have you mentioned any of this to Rinoa?"

"Are you insane?" Seifer asked. "I might be an asshole, but I'm not that cruel."

"Good," Laguna said. He turned to face Seifer and crossed his arms. It was very much like Squall's default posture. "Wait here."

Seifer wandered the room while Laguna excused himself. There wasn't much of interest to look at, so he passed the time by thumbing through the stacks of paperwork on the desk. None of it was worth a second look, not that he expected to find any evidence there. Leonhart was too meticulous to leave sensitive documents out in the open.

He thought about his relationship with Laguna over the years, from the unwanted mercy he'd shown in the beginning to now. Seifer had resented Laguna's conditional pardon, and he'd thought his childhood hero a complete moron in person, but the longer Seifer worked with him, the more he'd come to respect the man.

There was a reason Laguna Loire was a President. He was no mascot, he actually knew what he was doing, but he went about it in such a way that made him seem a bumbling fool because the public loved it. In reality, the man was smart, calculating and charismatic, and he had turned a fascist, xenophobic nation into a democratic technological superpower.

His people loved him. They loved that he was a regular guy. They loved that he wore cargo pants and sandals to the office. And he loved them back. Sure, there were dissenters and the occasional group of rebels that wanted to return to the old ways, and sometimes they resorted to violence, but if the people of Esthar didn't shut them up, Seifer did.

Laguna had given Seifer his respect when Seifer hadn't earned or deserved it. Seifer hadn't understood why for a long time, but it was because Laguna liked the lost causes, the screw-ups, the idiots who tripped over their own feet and fell on their faces. He saw value where others did not, and for whatever reason, he'd seen something in Seifer worth saving when no one else cared.

Though Seifer would never say it out loud, he was grateful.

When Laguna returned, Ellone was with him. At the funeral, Seifer had only greeted her in passing. They weren't and never had been close, in spite of their respective relationships with Squall and Laguna. He avoided her when she visited Esthar, wary of her and what she could do. He didn't want her inside his head, and he was thankful that she'd never tried.

"Seifer," she greeted. "You look well."

"Ellone," he returned.

"Elle, whatever gets said in here, it doesn't leave this room," Laguna said. "Promise me, okay?"

"Of course," she said. "Is this about Squall?"

Ellone sat, arranged her skirt around her slender legs and bowed her head.

"I already know what you're going to ask," she said. "The answer is, I don't know."

"What do you mean?" Seifer asked. "What don't you know?"

"I've tried to connect," she said. "There's something there, but I get pushed out before I can get a solid read. There's something, or someone else in his head, I think. Blocking me."

Seifer exchanged a glance with Laguna and took a seat on the coffee table in front of her.

"There's something there?" he asked. "He's still alive?"

"I don't know," she said. "Some part of him must be, but I can't get through at all, no matter how far back I try to go."

"Have you tried in the last day or so?"

"No," she said. "There was too much going on."

Inwardly, Seifer cringed at what he was about to ask. Even after all these years, he was adverse to magic, even his own. Exposure to it, even witnessing it at times made his skin crawl.

"Try now, and take me with you."

"There probably won't be much to see."

"Try anyway."

Ellone reached for his hand, and Seifer flinched at her touch. Something in him sensed the power in her and recoiled from it. He did not want her to touch him, but he endured it for the sake of his own request, and he didn't ask if it was necessary.

She closed her eyes and Seifer's vision blurred. The room around him melted like candle wax and his head filled with a buzzing sound like a swarm of angry bees. Everything went dark and there was a strange and sharp tug, as though he'd been jerked from his own skin.

There was nothing around them but a darkness, a pit of black so deep it seemed a living, monstrous thing.

"The hell are we?" he asked.

"Be quiet and listen."

The sound of hoarse, breathy panting, a soft whimper. The smell of ozone and dust. The steady thud of a rapid heartbeat in his ears – fear, panic, anger, pain.

" _Just let me die."_

The darkness swirled and splintered apart as Seifer was forcefully shoved back. The sensation was jarring and unexpected and when he opened his eyes, he was back in the library with his hand still in Ellone's grasp. Her eyes were wide and afraid as she looked back at him.

"That's the first time I've heard him," she said. "Or felt anything."

Seifer pulled his hand away and got up.

"He's not dead, Loire," Seifer said.

Laguna sat down, his head in his hands.

"I don't dare hope you're right," he said.

Seifer shared the feeling. Whoever Kramer had gotten himself involved with, whatever their aim, it was not their fight. It wasn't Squall's fight either, but if there was even the smallest chance Squall was still alive, they needed to act on it.

"With your permission, I'd like to look into this further," Seifer said.

"When have you asked for permission to do anything?" Laguna asked. "I figured you'd run off and do it anyway."

"Yeah, you're right," Seifer said. "Cid didn't give me much. No names, no information on where to find these bastards. Want me to give him the time tested cuchi-cuchi treatment?"

"Your version of that differs greatly from mine," Laguna said. "But, I'm going to pretend that we're talking about the same thing. Do what needs to be done. Whatever resources you need are at your disposal."

That was all the permission Seifer needed. He did his best work when there were no rules, when he was left to his own devices without restriction. When there were rules, Seifer broke them anyway if it served his ends.

"I'll let Kiros know you have use of any and all resources," Laguna said. "He'll ask questions, but there's no reason for him to know yet."

"You don't trust your friend?"

"I trust him," Laguna said. "But the fewer that know about this, the better. I don't want it to get back to Rinoa. She's already upset, and I don't want her to have to mourn twice."

"Ellone, does anyone else know you've tried to reach Squall?" Seifer asked. "You ever bring it up?"

"Just to Zell," she said. "I told him pretty much what I told you."

"Oh, great," Seifer said. "He's got the biggest mouth on this side of the continent."

"He won't say anything," Ellone assured him. "He knows it would only upset her."

"You sure?" Seifer asked. "He's not known for his discretion."

"I'm sure. It was just a hunch at the time," she said. "As far as he knows, it was just an echo of Squall's consciousness."

Seifer stared at her but detected no lie in her pretty, round face. He wondered if it was possible that the man they'd reached existed only in a consciousness left behind after death, but he didn't ask.

"Ellone, if you're willing, I'd like you to help Seifer look into this," Laguna said.

"What?" Seifer barked. "You know I don't do teamwork."

He didn't do teamwork, and he really didn't want to work with a girl he feared more than he was willing to admit. There was no doubt in his mind, Ellone had only good intentions, that she was harmless, but he was still unnerved by her power. If she got inside his head, she might see the worst parts of him, the things he just wanted to forget.

But, maybe she could be useful. Her ability might come in handy with a particularly unwilling subject.

"I'm not sure how I can help," Ellone said. "Unless you want me to..."

"Get in Cid's head," Seifer finished. "That's not a terrible idea."

"See? You two are already in the same book," Laguna joked. "You'll get along like peanut butter and pickles."

"Peanut butter?" Seifer asked, baffled.

"...and pickles?" Ellone finished, equally confused. "That's really weird. Even for you."

"Don't knock it till you try it," Laguna said. "Elle, you get in Cid's head, see what you can dig up. Seifer, maybe a visit to Dr. Kadowaki is in order?"

"That sounds like a good place to start," Seifer agreed. "Kramer might lie to my face, but Doc won't."

"It should go without saying that none of this leaves this room?" Laguna said. "That you tell no one what you're up to?"

"Of course," Ellone said.

"No reason to get everyone all excited," Seifer agreed.

"Good. It's settled," Laguna said. He pushed to his feet. "Get started in the morning. It's been a long day for everyone, and I doubt you'll get far if you try tonight."

That was a suggestion Seifer ignored. A return trip to Garden was in order, and someone was going to tell him the truth, whether they wanted to or not.

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

8

* * *

Her name was Thalia Blackheart.

Squall didn't care one way or another who she was, or where she'd come from. He could believe nothing she said or did and he had to assume none of the things he saw or felt were real.

That was difficult. It was hard to ignore pain or the sensation of things crawling over his skin, extreme heat or cold, or the strike of a fist against his jaw. Hard to ignore the images in his head, vivid memories of things that had never happened.

"Cid betrayed you, Squall," she said as she sat down on the floor in front of him. Her face morphed into Rinoa and Squall turned his face away. "Edea betrayed you. All you have to do is tell us where to find her and this will all end."

"I don't know," he insisted, and that was the truth.

"I don't believe you," she said. Thalia-Rinoa's dark eyes were mournful. "Ella misses you. I miss you. Please, just tell the truth so you can come home."

Hyne, it was tempting to tell a lie. To say whatever necessary, but he was under no delusion that they would let him go before they found her. A lie would only bring more pain.

"I don't know," he said. "Nobody knows."

"Your sister is in Balamb," she said. Thalia's face morphed back, her hair melting from black to icy blonde. "I'm sure we could use her to find out. You wouldn't want us to do to her what we've done to you. She's not as strong as you are."

"Leonhart, Squall. Rank A SeeD, Balamb Garden Commander," he said. "ID 41269."

She grabbed his chin roughly and turned his face so that he was forced to look up at her. Squall had never hated a person before, not even Seifer in his madness, but he hated this woman. He fantasized about getting her in his grip, pinning her to the floor and wrapping the chains tight around her neck. If she got close enough, he would try. Even if they killed him for it, it would be worth it to watch the light leave her eyes.

"We're right off the Balamb coast," she said. "Did you know that? It would be so easy to snatch her up. Maybe then, she'd stop trying to connect with you. That's becoming a bore, really."

Sis had tried to connect? Squall hadn't sensed her, but he wasn't surprised she'd tried. Even if Cid gave up, his family wouldn't.

"Let's go for a walk," Thalia said. "So you can see how close you are to home."

Squall stared at her while she unlocked the chains on his wrists. This had to be some trick. She wouldn't unlock him if she didn't trust there was no way for him to escape.

She lifted him to his feet. He swayed, his legs trembled beneath him, muscles long unused, weak and diminished. A wave of dizziness passed over him and he slid to his knees, took shallow, panting breaths as he fought to stay alert.

This was why she had absolute confidence he wouldn't try to run. Because he could barely stand.

On his feet again, the dizziness persisted, but she propelled him forward and forced his legs to move. He walked like a puppet on strings, with jerky and uneven steps toward the door. Out into the hall, up the steps, his vision went white, then black.

The brilliant sunlight above blinded him. After being kept in darkness so long, the light stung his eyes, brought tears to them, and his view dissolved into melted watercolors of turquoise and ultramarine and white. The sea air filled his lungs, and it was as sweet as it was briny. It was the smell of home and freedom and all the things he loved. He could taste the salt on the back of his tongue, could smell the sunshine and the humidity he'd never knew he missed until now.

The ship was smaller than he imagined. It was a double masted sailboat built for speed, and more modern than he expected. There was more fiberglass and metal than wood, the drawn sails a crisp, clean white against the cerulean sky.

"There," she said and pointed to the coast. "Look how close you are. Can you see your house from here?"

Squall scanned the coastline, half snow-blind from too-bright sunlight and found the harbor, the hotel, the train station, the factories on the north end of town. To the south, rooftops of single family homes dotted the landscape behind the beach. His was among them, but he couldn't pick it out amidst all the others.

Homesickness and hatred swelled up inside him, hot and burning out of control like a brush fire.

He was so close. So close, he could almost touch it.

All he had to do was make it to the shore alive. That was all. The distance was great, half a mile or more, but did he have the strength to make it that far?

The sea wasn't particularly rough. As long as he could stay afloat and luck was on his side, he could ride the currents to the shore.

In good health, Squall been a strong swimmer and had made a hobby of both free diving and scuba diving in these waters. It was quiet and peaceful below the waves, something he struggled to find in his daily life. He knew the reefs and where the strongest currents tended to run, and how close they would drag him to shore.

This was his turf. If he timed it right, escape was possible.

His will was stronger than his physical being, but he would rather risk dying in the ocean than suffer another second of Thalia's cruelty.

Squall closed his eyes and thought of home. Everything he loved was right there. All he had to do was jump.

He counted backwards from ten, took a deep breath of the fresh, ocean air and threw an elbow into Thalia's face. As she shrieked in pain, Squall made his bid for freedom.

White-capped ultramarine water beckoned him home. The cry of gulls urged him on, to jump, to swim like hell and not stop until he hit the shore.

Squall grabbed the rail, his whole body trembling with fatigue, he swung a leg over, then the other.

A split second of weightlessness, then he was jerked back and pinned down on the deck of the sailboat. A wall of fire erupted all around him and hot flames licked over his skin, stinging pain, searing flesh, and he glared up at the force that kept him from going home.

Thalia sat on his chest, her hands gripped his shoulders and her face was an inch from his. Bright orange flickered in her slivery eyes, her pale hair painted in shades of amber.

"That was stupid," she said. "Can't trust anyone these days."

Everything around him shimmered, the bright daylight faded and the flames died down. Squall was back in his cell, his wrist still chained and the weight of her pressed him into the floor.

It was just another hallucination. And he'd believed.

That was more disappointing than missing an opportunity to escape. It wasn't real. It was never real.

He'd known how easily she could deceive him, yet he'd believed. She'd sold the lie, and he'd bought it without question. They could be anywhere right now, off the coast of Balamb or the Island Closest to Hell or floating somewhere a thousand miles from land, and Squall would never know for sure.

Squall's face was showered in kisses, soft lips moved over his eyes and brows, his forehead and cheeks, and he wept openly as the last of his hope dissolved into despair. She'd bested him, broken him.

He was enveloped in the scent of Rinoa's perfume, of fresh linens, baby powder. He gave in to the fantasy that these were Rinoa's lips and hands on his skin and not those of a cruel bitch bent on destroying him.

He no longer cared what she did to him. Nothing that happened here in this hellhole was real.

* * *

Seifer walked right into Garden at a quarter past ten and no one questioned it.

That spoke volumes about how much the place had changed in the years since he'd been a student. He'd anticipated some resistance, a patrolling faculty member, the current head of the disciplinary committee, or even a SeeD, but he went unnoticed as he stalked through the lobby and into the main corridor.

His first stop was the infirmary. Kadowaki would still be awake and at her desk, in case some idiot student got mauled on their way to the secret area in the training center. During Seifer's time here, it had happened at least once a month. Some dumb kid, his mind poisoned by out of control adolescent lust would be lax in his attention to his surroundings and get mauled by a T-rexaur instead of getting to make-out with his date.

It rarely happened to the girls, which told Seifer as much about young men's priorities as it did young women's, and it had informed his own behavior when he occasionally partook in the forbidden delights of secret meetings in the not-so-secret secret area.

"Security's for shit in this place," Seifer greeted the doctor as he stepped inside the infirmary. "Any asshole off the street could walk right in."

"Things have changed around here, that's for sure," Dr. Kadowaki said.

She offered a smile and spread her arms wide for him. Seifer stepped into her motherly embrace and hugged her back. He wasn't given to expressions of affection, but Dr. Kadowaki was an exception.

For years, he'd believed Edea the most important mother-figure in his life, and she still held a special, if not slightly tainted, place in his heart, but in hindsight, Dr. Kadowaki had done her part to fill the role for a good part of Seifer's life in Edea's absence. She'd cared for his wounds, had given him sound advice, even when he wasn't willing to listen, and had bluntly told him more than once, he was being an idiot. Seifer loved her for it. Or, as close to love as Seifer got, anyway.

"It's good to see you, Seifer," she said. "I didn't get to speak to you earlier today, but I assume you're not here this late for a personal visit."

"No," Seifer said. "Some concerns have come up. I have questions."

"Would you like some tea?"

"Please," he said and sat in front of her desk. "Is there anyone else in here at the moment? I need to keep this as confidential as possible."

"I've got a cadet in room two, but he's down for the count," she said. "Tried to climb the hull to watch the funeral, fell about thirty feet, split his head open on the concrete. He'll be lucky if he wakes up before Tuesday."

Seifer smiled in reminiscence. He'd climbed the hull himself dozens of times for various reasons. Sometimes, he was on the run from Xu and the faculty. Sometimes, he climbed to be alone where no one could find him. He'd only fallen once, and his skull had paid the price.

"The last kid that fell that hard was you," Dr. Kadowaki said as she sat and pushed a mug of tea across the desk. "You were out for what, three days?"

"Four," Seifer said. "I missed classes for a week. Helluva time catching up."

"You were a terrible child," she said. "Between you and Squall, I thought for sure we were going to lose one you to some unfortunate accident of your own making before you hit puberty."

"Me more than Squall," Seifer said. "He wouldn't have done most of those things if it weren't for me."

"He certainly wouldn't have," she said. "So, what is it you wanted to discuss?"

"I have reason to believe Squall's alive."

"Ah."

Seifer raised an eyebrow and sipped his tea as Dr. Kadowaki stood and retrieved a file folder from her outbox and brought it back to the desk.

"I assume you're here at his father's request?"

"Mostly."

"What do you want to know?"

"Were there any dental impressions taken of the body?" Seifer asked. "X-rays, DNA samples?"

Dr. Kadowaki folded her hands and peered at him over the frames of her reading glasses. Cool, professional and unfazed by the subject, as if she'd expected it.

"We couldn't get any usable samples from the body," she said. "Trust me, I tried. As far as X-rays, all those did was confirm a man of similar height and build. There was no detailed comparison done. And Cid felt there was no need for a dental comparison with so much other evidence."

"So, it didn't get done?"

"It was done, but never sent to a specialist."

"That's a little suspicious, Doc," Seifer said. "I'd say Cid was a little quick on the draw."

"Perhaps," she said. "But it wouldn't be the first time we had to make do with the evidence we had to identify a body."

"President Loire would like Squall's medical files," Seifer lied. "He wants to conduct an investigation of his own."

"You know I can't just hand over Garden property," Dr. Kadowaki said. "But, maybe there are copies of certain documents that no one will ever know went missing. Since no one knew there were copies in the first place."

Seifer smiled.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"Yes, well, this goes no further than the two of us," she said. "If someone finds out you have those, you didn't get them from me."

"Eh, I'll just tell them I broke into your office and stole them," Seifer said. "They'd be more apt to believe that than they would you just handing them over to me."

For a few minutes, they chatted about personal stuff. Her plans to retire in two years, Seifer's plans to remain in Esthar. Eventually, they ran out of small talk.

"Kramer in his office?" he asked.

"I assume so," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Probably passed out on his desk in a puddle of his own drool. He was quite intoxicated last time I saw him."

That was a good thing. A drunken Cid might be more willing to spill his guts than a sober one.

Dr. Kadowaki wasn't wrong. Cid Kramer was passed out in his office chair, mouth open, snoring loudly, his glasses askew. Seifer shook him, but Cid only smacked his lips, shifted, and resumed snoring.

So, it was like that, was it? Well, so be it.

Seifer lifted his foot and placed the sole of his boot against the arm of Cid's office chair. He gave it a hard shove and the chair went spinning its casters across the wooden floor. It crashed into a bookshelf and Cid toppled from the chair with a thud and a groan.

"Huh, wha-?" Cid mumbled as he pushed himself to his knees. He wiped his chin, replaced his glasses and stared blearily up at Seifer. "I'll pay you back! I swear!"

"It's not me you owe," Seifer said. He hauled the man to his feet and shoved him back into the office chair. "All I want is the truth. The full truth, not that back-peddling, cover your own ass bullshit you gave me earlier."

Cid was still half asleep and smelled like a distillery and stale sweat. Seifer went to the water cooler, filled a paper cup and threw it in Cid's face to sober him. Cid squawked and flailed, and he sat straight up with wide eyes as Seifer tossed the cup aside and leaned over him.

"You awake now?" Seifer asked.

"I told you everything," Cid said. "There's nothing more to know."

"See, now that smells like a pile of bullshit to me," Seifer said. "You don't really expect me to know you have no clue who you borrowed from, do you?"

"Please!"

"Yeah, I bet that's what Squall said when they lopped off his finger," Seifer said.

He picked up a pair of scissors from the desk, tested them, made sure Cid saw them.

"What should I start with?" he asked. "Earlobe? Nose? Maybe a finger? A pinky for a pinky, a tooth for a tooth?"

Cid began to cry. Fat tears slid from under his eyelids, and his chest shook as Seifer loomed over him.

What a coward.

How the hell had this man trained an entire organization of kids to be deadly killers when he was such a pathetic wuss himself? There were rumors Cid had once been an extraordinary soldier and if it was true, years of idleness, his ass in a plush leather chair had made him lazy and cowardly.

"I remember my training well, Cid," Seifer murmured. "Remember what you did to us? I do. I learned from it. I learned a lot. How many volts to use when electrocuting someone, how to properly beat the shit out of someone to make them talk. What it feels like to nearly drown."

A slow pulse of controlled anger beat through Seifer's limbs. Ten years ago, he would have given into it and sliced Cid to ribbons in a rage, but he was older and wiser now, and he'd learned it was far more effective to bank it and use it as fuel rather than a weapon.

"I never meant to make you like this," Cid whined. "Truly, I didn't. It was NORG's idea, not mine."

"What does it matter whose idea it was?" Seifer asked. "You let it happen. Is it really a surprise I turned out a monster?"

Seifer dragged the closed blades of the scissors over Cid's chin. His whole face shook as he cringed away from it, and he gave a pathetic whine as Seifer opened them and placed the blades around the tip of Cid's nose.

It would be a lie to say Seifer wasn't enjoying this. He didn't intend to cause Cid any actual physical harm, but if it became his only option to get the man to talk, Seifer wouldn't lose any sleep if Cid wound up with an extra hole in his head. Watching Cid squirm was a bit of a thrill. It was also a lot like poking a dead fish with a stick. He wasn't even fighting back.

Seifer had waited for years for a chance to give Cid his due. SeeD on the whole had been a valuable experience growing up. There were plenty of good things he'd gotten from it, but there were also things that left scars, both mental and physical, and those things had paved the way for what he had become and had led him down a path that had nearly ruined him.

Squall was raised to be the hero, Seifer an afterthought. A contingency plan. And he's been treated as such.

"I bet you'll sing like a canary at the first cut," Seifer said quietly as he closed the blades tighter around Cid's nose. "You have two choices."

Seifer grabbed Cid's hand, pinned his wrist to the arm of the chair and slipped the scissors around the end of Cid's pinky finger, just above the first knuckle. He applied enough pressure to cut through the first layer of skin, saw blood and smiled.

"Start talking or you lose this first."

* * *

Ellone met Laguna at the hotel for breakfast the following morning. Back in casual dress, Laguna sat at the table, eyes closed with a fork in one hand, the other wrapped around a mug of coffee. Either he'd had too much to drink the night before, or he was trying to keep it together.

She suspected a little of both as she took a seat. Laguna was not a drinker, and for good reason. Alcohol was no friend of his, and it never had been. He required at least three times the amount of post binge recovery time as the average man, and that was not due to age.

"Morning," she said as she took a seat. "You look terrible."

"I feel terrible," he admitted. "And before you start lecturing, it's not just the alcohol. I didn't sleep so well."

"Neither did I," Ellone admitted. Ella had woken up sobbing twice in the night, convinced that she'd been buried alive.

While Ellone agreed it was important for a child to participate in the funeral of a loved one, it was equally important to explain everything that would happen and why. No one had done that for Ella, and it wasn't anyone's fault it had gone unaddressed. In the chaos and heartbreak that followed the news of death, it was easy to overlook children. It was easy to forget a child with a vivid imagination might conjure things that were far scarier than they were.

"Seifer will be joining us in a few," Laguna said. "I'm sure you're eager to get started."

"Are you sure you want me to work with him?" she asked. "I feel like I'm only going to get in the way."

"I'm sure you'll be useful. Just don't let him push you around and you'll be fine," Laguna said. He lifted the coffee to his lips, winced and set it back down. "I miss Estharian coffee. That stuff's like coffee flavored water."

"I'm not worried about that," she said. "I just feel like I'll be more useful helping here. Rinoa's trying, but she's in over her head and could use an extra pair of hands until she's got it handled."

Laguna patted her hand and pushed a cinnamon roll across the table. "Eat."

He could be so frustrating. Whenever he didn't want to hear something, he changed the subject. People assumed it was because he was scatterbrained but it was actually a tactic specifically designed to distract someone from a sensitive topic.

"Laguna, don't pretend I'm not talking."

"I hear you Elle," Laguna said quietly. "But I know you'll be more useful to Seifer."

"What if he ditches me somewhere and goes off on his own quest?"

"Because he knows I'll kill him if he does," Laguna said. He poured her a cup of coffee and looked up. "Besides. He wouldn't do that. Not to you."

Ellone had her doubts. Seifer did as Seifer pleased and woe to the sorry soul who got in his way.

A presence on the other end of the connection didn't necessarily mean Squall was alive. They put too much faith in her ability, and it was not as reliable as it seemed. A few times, while in Dr. Odine's custody, she'd run into a phenomenon known as a pseudo-memory. Sometimes, the memory of an event was either misremembered, altered or had never happened at all.

There was also a possibility that what she was seeing was a projection of her own perception of what had happened to Squall, something gleaned from her imagination, rather than an actual memory. That was less likely, but it was still possible, and it had happened once or twice during testing when she was little.

She'd tried to research her ability and there was almost no information and no studies on it beyond what Dr. Odine had done when she was a girl. How it worked or how reliable the information she gather from inside other people's minds were mysteries she doubted she'd ever understand.

And memories themselves were not always reliable. Sometimes things were bigger than they actually were, a woman wore a blue dress when it was really green, a conversation included words that were never spoken. Perception varied.

"I'll do it for Squall," Ellone finally said as she picked at the cinnamon bun. "But, don't get your hopes up. I'm not infallible, and neither is Seifer."

"You'll do your best," Laguna said with confidence. "Speak of the demon. There he is now."

Ellone turned as Seifer entered the dining room, as out of place here an extra-large chocobo in a lingerie shop.

Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile the little boy she remembered from the orphanage with the massive, broad shouldered and dangerously handsome man he'd become. No matter where he was, he took up all the space in the room, and it was less his physical stature than his presence. He commanded attention, whether he was conscious of it or not.

He sat unceremoniously in the chair across from Laguna and put his elbows on the table, a dragon that ate the moomba expression on his face.

"I had a visit with Kramer," he said.

"I hope you didn't rough him up too much," Laguna said.

Seifer's lips quirked into a small, satisfied smile and he gave a one-shoulder shrug in response.

"I got what I needed," he said. "So there's no reason for Elle to bother knocking around in his head. I'd imagine it's about as exciting as a fruit fly in a jar anyway."

"What did he say?"

Seifer leaned back in his chair slowly and made a show of crossing propping his ankle on his knee, rolled his shoulders for effect, showy and cocky as aways.

"Well, for starters, he borrowed a shit-ton of money," Seifer said. "Way more than makes sense and at a ridiculous interest rate."

"How much are we talking?"

"Two hundred."

"Thousand?" Ellone asked.

The look Seifer gave her made her blood boil. As if she was just a dumb, naive little girl.

_Oh, please, Elle. The menfolk are talking now._

"Million."

Laguna's eyebrows shot up. "Two hundred million? For what?"

"He says he had plans to build a technology development and research institute in Centra," Seifer said. "As far as I know, they got started, broke ground, and then the money ran out."

"That accounts for some of it, but where did the rest go?" Ellone asked.

Seifer cast her an annoyed, sideways glance for interrupting. It was obvious he reveled in his newfound knowledge and wanted to spill it without being questioned. Ellone balled her hand into a fist under the table and stared at him until he answered.

"He invested in an up-coming memory chip manufacturer that promised a product that would double anything available on the market, but then there was some scandal and the CEO ran off with the cash," Seifer said. "He'd promised Kramer double or even triple his investment once the company released its product. Obviously, that didn't happen, but he'd banked on that return to pay back his debt, and these people don't care that he got duped."

This was all good background, but it didn't explain what Squall had to do with any of this, or how it would help find him if he was alive.

"Who did he borrow from?" Laguna asked.

"This is where it gets weird," Seifer said. "He says he doesn't know who the big boss is, but his contact is a Shumi they call Accountant. He's sort of a NORG in training, if you will, ambitious and greedy as hell, and apparently he runs with these shady characters that are all ex-Galbadian army or SeeD drop-outs. Basically, low level thugs that couldn't hack it, but they're mean and they don't mess around."

"You're not talking about the Blackhearts," Laguna said.

"Yeah," Seifer said. "You've heard of them?"

"I've heard rumors," he said.

"What do you know about them?" Seifer asked. "I asked around but I didn't get much. Other than they're not anyone you want to cross."

"All I know for sure is that they're led by a woman named Thalia Blackheart," Laguna said. "She's definitely not someone you want to upset."

"Any idea where they hang out?"

"No," Laguna said. "I'm not even sure what their goal is, to be honest, other than upsetting the status quo. Sometimes, they act like insurgents, other times they just create chaos for fun. They claimed responsibility for the Deling City bombing a few years back."

Ellone remembered that. For no reason at all, a bomb had been detonated in front of the Presidential Residence during a city wide independence celebration. Fifty people had been killed and hundreds more injured, and the only reason given was  _because we can._

"Is there any reason to believe they'd be after Rinoa?" Ellone asked. "Is she safe?"

"Kramer didn't mention her, so I doubt it," Seifer said. "Rin can take care of herself. Besides, it looks like she's got the whole sunshine gang around her, so she'll be fine."

"I'm still worried," Ellone said. "She's grieving, upset and expecting another child, so maybe... We should consider keeping a SeeD on duty until this is resolved. Just in case."

Seifer's expression softened, he hadn't known. That confirmed what Ellone had long suspected. He still carried a torch for his first real girlfriend, or at least had some actual empathy for her after all these years.

"That's shitty," he said. "It couldn't hurt to get someone posted up at the house to keep an eye on things."

"I'll contact Xu," Laguna said. "In the meantime, see if there's anything else you can dig up on these guys."

Seifer reached for his laptop bag and tossed a file folder on the table.

"Copies of Squall's medical files and dental records," Seifer said. "Along with whatever they bothered to get from the body."

"How did you get those?" Laguna asked. "Or, do I not want to know?"

"You don't wanna know," Seifer said. "I suggest you find a specialist who can compare the dental records with the body. Someone who can keep their mouth shut."

Laguna pulled the file toward himself, opened it and then closed it with a grimace.

"I know someone," he said. "I'll let you know."

Laguna stood and checked the time, sighed at his watch and held his arms out for Ellone. She stepped into them, accepted his hug and kissed his cheek.

"You have to go so soon?" she asked.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said. "Esthar calls."

Ellone suspected it was an excuse, but she forgave him because that was how he was. He ran from things that hurt, sometimes until he could deal with and accept them, sometimes forever.

"So, how are we going to do this?" Ellone asked Seifer after Laguna had gone. "Since you already took care of Cid."

"You're still going to try and get in his head," Seifer said. "Pick his brain for anything he conveniently forgot to mention."

"I don't want to do it here," she said. "And I need to look in on Rinoa and let her know I won't be around as much."

"Take your time."

Seifer whipped out a laptop and focused his attention on the screen. Ellone took that as a dismissal. Seifer didn't even glance at her as she left the table.

Rinoa had decided to go to work instead of sitting around the house feeling sorry for herself. Ellone understood and respected her decision, but she also thought Rinoa needed a little more time to herself, to get things in order before she went back to work. It wasn't Ellone's place to judge her choice, especially after she'd told Rinoa Squall would want her to get on with it. If going to work helped, then so be it.

Ellone entered the bookstore, which was more crowded than she expected. Rinoa was behind the counter, serving pastries and coffee as they were ordered to help clear the line. Ellone lifted her hand and waved to let Rinoa know she was there, then moved to the far side of the room to look at the selection of magazines.

Someone tapped her shoulder. Ellone turned to face a young woman in her early twenties. The girl tucked strands of long, silvery blonde hair behind her ears and cast her eyes at the floor. There was something familiar about her, but Ellone couldn't place what it was.

"Sorry to bother you," she said. "I'm trying to find the hotel and I got a little turned around."

Ellone frowned at the girl, sure they'd met before. It was a gut feeling rather than recognition, but as Ellone inspected her, she was deeply unsettled by her strange, silvery-steel eyes.

"I was wondering if you could show me?" she asked. "Point me in the right direction?"

"Sure," Ellone said. "Hang a left out the door, go to the end of the street and take a right. Hotel's at the bottom of the hill. Can't miss it."

The woman cast her eyes at the floor again and clasped her hands behind her back. Ellone was reminded of a young Rinoa when she was feeling out of her depth. It should have been endearing, but it wasn't. It was too affected or perhaps practiced to be genuine.

"I... I don't want to get lost again," she said.

Against her better judgment, Ellone shrugged and motioned for her to follow.

Seifer left the hotel to meet with Xu, the absolute last person he wanted to see or have to question. If it hadn't been necessary to find out how much she knew, and whether she was in on Cid's mess or not, he would have avoided it altogether. She found him repugnant and cocky, he found her arrogant and intolerable. Probably because they were more alike than either cared to admit.

As he stepped out into the bright morning, a woman's scream shot through the otherwise quiet Balamb morning. Seifer swiveled toward the sound, just as a big, burly man hoisted a shrieking Ellone over his shoulder. Ellone flailed and kicked and used her elbows and knees to break free, techniques that were familiar to Seifer, but they had no impact at all on the man.

Beside him was a woman, or what Seifer thought was a woman. It was hard to tell. She was blurry, and the shape of her kept changing. Tall, short, light, dark. He blinked in confusion, but shrugged it off as the pair began the descent to the harbor with the screeching Ellone in tow.

"Shut her up," the woman-blur barked, "before you get everyone in town out here."

"Goddamn it," he muttered.

This was why he didn't work as a team. This was why he didn't want Ellone working with him. By himself, Seifer was only accountable for his own well being. Partners, especially partners that had little to no formal training were more trouble than they were worth.

With a grunt, Seifer dropped his laptop bag on the sidewalk and sprinted toward them.

Seifer poured on the speed as the pair turned down the bend to the harbor, Ellone still screaming and fighting to free herself. He caught up to them, dove at the man's legs and tackled him to the ground. Ellone hit the ground hard, and her scream was cut short as her head smacked the cobblestones.

The man threw Seifer off, swung his arm out and bashed Seifer in the nose with his elbow. Sparks of pain flared through his face and he was momentarily blinded by the blow. His eyes watered, and blood began to pour from one of his nostrils, but he got up as the pair fled in the direction of the harbor.

He could have chased them, but if there were more, he didn't want to leave Ellone by herself, only to be snatched up again. That was a risk he was not willing to take, and it had nothing to do with teamwork. Ellone was a valuable hostage.

She sat on the ground, a hand pressed to the back of her head.

"You good, El?" he asked.

"I think so," she said. She looked up at him blearily. "Your nose."

Seifer wiped blood away from his mouth and chin, looked at it and shrugged. "I'll live. What the hell was that?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "The girl asked for directions to the hotel, so I walked her..."

"What did she look like?"

"You saw her."

"No, I didn't," he said. "Describe her to me."

"A little taller than Rinoa, pale blonde hair, silver eyes, maybe twenty?"

Ellone had just described Thalia Blackheart.

Would they really be so stupid as to show up in Balamb the day after the funeral or try to snatch Ellone right off the street in broad daylight? That went against what little he knew about them. Then again, they were bold enough to bomb Deling City without cause or explanation.

"Can you stand?" Seifer asked.

"I think so," she said. He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. "Thanks. For stopping them."

"Hmm," Seifer grunted. "Leonhart never showed you how to fight off an attacker?"

"...they taught me self-defense on the White SeeD ship, but, I'm not really a match for a guy that big," she said in a small voice.

"That's a bunch of crap," Seifer said. "Anyone ever bother to give you weapons training?"

"No."

"Hyne," he muttered. "If we're gonna be working together, I can't be having you damsel out on me every five minutes. I don't have time to play hero anymore, so this afternoon, you're gonna learn how to take care of yourself. But first, let's get cleaned up. I want to show you something."

Back in Seifer's hotel room, he opened up the laptop on the bed and called up a handful of blurry photos for Ellone to look at.

"Is this the woman you talked to?"

"That's her."

"Your sure?"

"I wouldn't forget those eyes," she said. She bit her lip and looked up at him, worry creasing her brow. "There was something familiar about her, but I'm sure we've never met."

"Explain," he said.

"I can't."

Seifer sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and dabbed at his busted nose. It came away bloody.

Squall had given Seifer his first bloody nose. In the hall outside the dormitory. Seifer had been picking on him, and though Squall usually ignored Seifer unless he got physical, that time he'd shut Seifer up by using his Level One Strategy Guide as a weapon and whacked him good and hard across the face. Until then, his brawls with Squall had been self-defense on Squall's part. It was the first time Squall had struck first, and he'd earned himself a bit of respect from Seifer that day.

Why Seifer was thinking about this now? He had other, more pressing issues besides reminiscing about the time Squall bashed him in the face with a training manual.

"Now that you've met her, do you think you can get in her head?"

Ellone nodded, but her posture said she didn't want to.

"You afraid of her?"

"Yes."

"You should be," Seifer said. "There's a reason she tried to get a hold of you, and I'm betting it wasn't to be friends."

Ellone stared at him.

"Way to state the obvious," she said. "People have been after me my whole life, and it's never been because they want to be friends."

"Then you probably should have known better than to go wander around town with a stranger."

"I was just trying to be nice."

"Nice will get you killed," Seifer said. "From now on, you pretend everyone you encounter is the enemy and you don't leave my sight. If I tell you to run, you move your ass. If I tell you to shut up, you close your trap right quick, if I say jump you better fucking jump, do you understand?"

Ellone's eyes narrowed and she stood up, smoothed down her dress and looked up at him with cold disinterest that rivaled the best in Squall's arsenal of frosty expressions.

"You are not my commander," she said. "I'll trust your judgment in battle, but you just remember, I changed your diapers, Seifer Almasy, and I've been through and seen just as many bad things in my life as you, so if you think you can boss me around, you have another thing coming."

"So, you're saying you touched my butt?"

"Gross."

With a lecherous grin, he leaned over her. It was fun getting her all riled up. If he was stuck with her, he might as well get some enjoyment out of it.

"Wanna touch it now?"

Ellone shoved him, her pretty face twisted in a scowl. Seifer cackled and flopped back on the bed, but regretted it when it made his broken nose throb and bleed anew.

"Oww," he muttered.

"You brought that on yourself," Ellone said as she turned away from him and went to the bathroom for first aid supplies. She returned with a potion and a wash cloth. "Here. Clean yourself up. I'm going to go get some ice for my head."

"If you're not back in five minutes, I'll assume you've been kidnapped again," he said. "And I'm not coming after you."

As she left, Seifer got up, opened the door a crack and watched her go down the hall to the ice machine.

Just in case. 


	9. Chapter 9

Cid disappeared a week and a half later. He left a note on his desk, saying he was going on an extended leave and would be back when he was back. Seifer wasn't surprised, but everyone else was. Neither Xu or Quistis knew a thing about Cid's bad investment, but they'd known about Cid's plans to build another school.

On the surface, Garden ran normal operations, but due to Cid's absence and his debts, the future of the place was up in the air. His creditors were likely to seize control any day, and on Seifer and Laguna's advice, Xu and Quistis prepared for that possibility. If they tried, there was a good chance the SeeDs stationed there would defend their home without question.

Seifer didn't care one way or another how they handled it. He was more concerned that they had almost nothing to go on. Every direction they turned, they ran into a dead end.

Ellone tried to connect with both Squall and Thalia but was rebuffed every time. Sometimes, she heard Squall. Most of the time she didn't. The one time she took Seifer with her, it was just darkness like before, Squall repeating his name, rank and ID number over and over until they were forced back.

Ellone insisted that didn't mean he was alive, but Seifer believed otherwise. One of the first things they were taught in hostage training was to give only their NRI when pressed for information. Seifer knew first hand, even under extreme duress, Squall would follow that directive.

Getting inside Cid's head was just as useless. Ellone had found a series of meetings with Accountant, but they were all similar to the one Seifer had witnessed and provided no information at all.

The only interesting information came from Laguna in regards to Squall's records.

"It wasn't a match," Laguna said. "Not even close. In fact, he didn't even really need to do a full comparison. The x-rays from the body showed the guy had all four wisdom teeth. Squall had his pulled when he was twenty."

"So the body we brought back wasn't him."

"There's no way it could have been," Laguna said. "Unless Squall spontaneously re-grew four teeth."

"Then there's actually a chance he's alive?"

"I'd say so," Laguna said.

"Good to know we're not chasing a ghost," Seifer said.

With this information, Seifer's waning resolve tripled, as did his irritation. And when Seifer got irritated, he was short tempered and the smallest things annoyed him.

"Seifer, stop acting like a giant man-baby just because things aren't going the way you want them to," Ellone said one afternoon, after he'd kicked over the wastebasket when his computer wouldn't connect. "It's not going to make anything go faster."

"Hey, peanut gallery? Zip it," he said. "Or better yet, go get us some lunch."

Ellone cocked her head at him, eyes narrowed.

"Go get your own lunch," she said. "I'm not your maid."

"Then find something useful to do."

"How about I book us passage to Trabia?" she asked.

"What the hell for? We already searched half the continent."

"I was thinking, a visit to Shumi Village might be a good idea. See if we can get some information on this Accountant guy?"

That wasn't a terrible idea. With nothing else to go on, Seifer agreed.

Ellone got the passage on a freighter headed for Trabia the next day. Quarters were in short supply, so they had to share a bunk in a room the size of a closet. Not that they spent much time in it. Seifer used the downtime time to continue Ellone's training on the deck between containers.

He'd taken a chance and decided a close range weapon was best for her. She wasn't strong, but she was fast, and in Seifer's experience, the small speedy ones were not to be underestimated.

Case in point: the Chicken-wuss. Dincht wasn't dangerous if you kept your distance, but if you let him get inside, you were dogmeat. Seifer was betting on the same being true of Ellone with some practice.

Ellone trained with a pair of thin, curved blades with a hooked notch near the tip, called Hyne's Talons. They didn't look like much, but if you got hooked by one, you were in for a world of hurt. The point was to inflict maximum damage with the least amount of effort. They were the perfect weapon for a woman with no battle experience.

Seifer fought with his blade and deflected most of her attacks, but near the end of the session, she managed to slip under his arm and hook him across the stomach. He hissed and jumped back, pawed at the growing stain on his shirt and grinned at her.

"That's how you do it," Seifer said with approval. "That actually hurt a little."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to cut you that bad."

The cut was deep and bled freely, but Seifer brushed her off with a grin and a light shove.

"That was a compliment," he said. "Not the first time I bled during training."

Back in the room, Seifer sat on the bottom bunk, and ducked to avoid bashing his head on the frame above as he stripped off his shirt and wadded it up against his wound. Ellone tossed him a potion from her bag and sat at the small table pushed against the wall opposite the bunk.

"White SeeD training was different," Ellone said. "They used dummy weapons with each other."

"What's the point of that?"

"Uh, so they don't make each other bleed?"

"Mmm, well, Squall and I used live weapons from about age ten on," Seifer said as he applied the potion to his wound. "We weren't supposed to cut each other, but we did."

Ellone's gaze fell on the scar between Seifer's eyes and he stared back at her until she looked elsewhere. Elsewhere was right in the eye.

"You're not the jerk you pretend to be," she said.

"Just because you wiped my butt when we were kids doesn't mean you know me."

She gave him a small smile.

"You were a cute baby. Not quite a year old when Squall and I got there," she said. "You had these adorable chubby little cheeks, fat rolls. You were like a chocobo in a china shop. Just so determined and stubborn and you had this belly laugh that was so infectious, but when you really got going you sounded like a cartoon villain on helium."

Seifer frowned as Ellone smiled to herself at the memory.

"What's your point?"

"I knew you were going to grow up and do extraordinary things," she said.

"Like become the world's enemy?"

"I didn't say good things," she said. "Did I?"

Half the time Ellone was the most insufferable, infuriating creature Seifer had ever met, stubborn and full of sass, and the other half she was an enigma. They stared at one another for nearly half a minute before she spoke again.

"I know you think there's no redemption for what you did," she said. "But, if that's true, why are you here?"

A chill went down Seifer's spine and he abruptly stood and began to pack his bag. They would arrive in Trabia by sundown, and had an hour walk from the port Shumi Village.

"You don't know me," he repeated. "Get your shit together. We dock in thirty."

Ellone said nothing more, but he caught her watching as he shoved his laptop into his bag and zipped it closed. It was hard to read her expression, but time spent with her didn't lessen the mild fear of her. Even with his teasing and her sass, that hadn't gone away. Maybe he would always be a little afraid of her.

They made good time and arrived in Shumi Village in less than an hour, even after a few monster encounters. Ellone held her own and didn't lag behind, in spite of the foot of height he had on her.

"Have you ever been here?" Ellone asked as they boarded the elevator.

"No."

"I shouldn't have to say this, but mind your manners," she said. "Mainstream Shumi are used to rudeness, but the ones that live here are not."

"Don't worry your puny little head about it," Seifer said and sat back on the couch as the elevator began its decent. "I know how to behave myself when I need to."

"I have yet to see proof of that," Ellone said. "And my head is not puny."

"It is so," Seifer said. He reached over and wrapped his hand all the way around her scrawny bicep. "Just like the rest of you."

"What are you, five?"

"And a half. I've matured."

"Debatable."

The elevator came to a stop and Seifer stood as the doors opened.

A small Shumi and a moomba waited just outside the elevator doors. Ellone greeted the Shumi as if they'd met before, crouched down and gave the moomba a scratch on the head.

The Shumi, named Attendant, escorted them to the hotel, bid them goodnight, with the promise to retrieve them in the morning.

They settled into the room and readied for bed. As Ellone locked herself in the bathroom, Seifer thought about their strange conversation earlier.

_I knew you would do extraordinary things._

All Seifer knew was that he had done none of the things he'd set out to do. He was content with his life now, as it was. Not necessarily happy, but content. He was able to do the things he was good at without repercussions. He had a nice apartment with a view of the Esthar skyline. But the only extraordinary thing he'd ever done was choose the wrong side.

Ellone emerged from the bathroom in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. Seifer watched her turn down the bedspread on the other side of the room.

"I don't want redemption."

"No?" she asked without looking at him. "Then what do you want?"

"Nothing more than I already have."

"I don't think that's true."

"You calling me a liar?"

"No," she said. "I think you want more, you just don't think you deserve it."

On edge, Seifer sat up and glared at her.

"I didn't deserve to be the kid that got shuffled aside so someone else could succeed."

"I agree," she said. She turned and looked at him. "It wasn't fair. But do you know why it happened?"

Seifer had been told the reasons. He understood them, but it didn't change a thing.

"Time loop," he said.

"It's an interesting conundrum, isn't it?" Ellone said. "Squall gave Matron the idea. Does that make it his fault?"

"Hell if I know," Seifer said. "All I know is I don't want to talk about this shit anymore."

"Fair enough."

"Good. Shut up and go to sleep."

* * *

Going back to work helped Rinoa avoid her grief during the day, but after all was said and done, after Ella was tucked in and Rinoa climbed into her own bed, it would come crashing down on her. Night after night, she fell asleep with tears in her eyes, trying to conjure the shape of her husband in the bed beside her through sheer force of will.

The scent of his cologne still lingered on the unwashed pillow case, but it was fading. Eventually, she would have to wash it, and then it would be gone forever.

_I miss you._

Sometimes, on the edge of sleep, Rinoa could convince herself Squall wasn't gone. That he was just away on a mission and would be home soon. She was sure she would feel his absence in her soul, that there would be an empty spot inside her, that if he was really gone, she would know it. She was sure she would feel the second his heart stopped beating, and she hadn't. She hadn't felt him leave this world, and he still took up space in her soul.

That didn't mean he was alive. She had to trust the facts. Squall was gone. He was dead and buried and that was a fact she had to accept.

She threw all she had into work and into making sure Ella didn't suffer from lack of attention. Ella still didn't quite understand, and Rinoa found herself having to explain again and again that Squall would not come home. It was as if Ella needed constant confirmation that it was true, that her father was gone for good, and reassurance that Rinoa would not leave her too.

It broke Rinoa's heart every time Ella looked at her with Squall's eyes, uncertain and scared and asked questions about death.  _Where do they go? Can people come back? Are you going to die too?_   _Why, why, why?_  It turned her sweet, fun-loving little girl into a serious and contemplative soul that reminded Rinoa of Squall so much, it hurt.

As Ella's birthday approached, she put all she had into making it fun. She enlisted Selphie's help with decorations and planning. Selphie tackled the job with her usual enthusiasm and put together an adorable dinosaur theme with hand-made paper mache raptors and t-rexaurs, banners and palm trees. Rinoa invited Ella's class from school and made little gift bags for each child with party favors and candy.

On the day of the party, Zell took Ella to the park while Selphie and Rinoa decorated. The family room was transformed into a wild jungle with vines made of twisted paper, banners, chain garlands and way too much glitter.

It looked great.

"This is so fun!" Selphie said. "I can't wait to have kids so I can do stuff like this all the time."

Rinoa looked at her friend, saw a split second of sorrow before it was replaced by a smile.

"But, I guess I gotta wait until Mr. Right comes along. Wherever he is."

"So I guess things are officially done with Irvine?"

Selphie shrugged. "Every time he comes back, I get my hopes up that he's ready to settle down but, he's not, so..."

In Rinoa's opinion, Selphie wasn't really ready to settle down either, and she'd never believed the scope of Irvine's wrongdoing was quite as bad as Selphie made it out to be, but that was their business. She just wished for her friends to be happy, whether together or apart.

"I didn't even get to talk to him while he was here," Rinoa said. "Not really, anyway. I don't even know what he's up to."

"Makes two of us," Selphie said as she brushed glitter from her hands and onto the carpet. "He said he was a gigolo when I asked if he was working. Can you believe that?"

"I'm sure he was joking."

"I'm not," Selphie said. "Anyway, I'm tired of the on-again, off-again, nobody knows where the heck he is crap. I deserve better."

"Well, good for you," Rinoa said. "I wish it had worked out but I understand why it didn't."

"Who cares about him anyway?" Selphie said and grinned broadly. "It's time to party!"

Ella was thrilled with the decorations and the house full of kids, even as Rinoa inwardly shrank each time someone offered condolences. She wondered how long it would be before that stopped, before people stopped bringing it up, stopped telling her how sorry they were, or telling her how Squall was taken too soon.

It was hard to find a balance when interacting with others, especially in this situation. How to be appropriately sad but also be a good mom and celebrate Ella's sixth birthday with all the fanfare it deserved. One or two of the other mothers cast her disapproving glances for smiling and laughing, others told her she was too morose for a child's party. Rinoa did her best, but there was no pleasing everyone, and in the end, it was Ella's happiness that was most important.

"All right, bud," Zell said as he dragged a large, shoddily wrapped box from the garage. "This is from Uncle Zell."

Ella's eyes went wide at the size of the box and the huge pink bow and she clapped her hands in excitement.

"Is it a baby t-rexaur?" she asked.

"You'll have to open it up and find out."

Ella began to tear at the paper as Rinoa went to stand at Zell's side. He crossed his arms over his chest, grinning as bits of paper went flying.

"That better not be a baby t-rexaur," Rinoa murmured.

"Damn thing wouldn't stay in the box," Zell said. Perplexed, he scratched his head. "Hard as hell to wrap."

Rinoa cut her eyes at him and Zell held up his hands and flashed a sunny grin.

"Joking."

Inside was a huge stuffed t-rexaur taller than Ella. She squealed with delight, threw her arms around it and tackled it to the floor, growling and giggling with delight.

"You like it, buddy?" Zell asked.

"GRRAWWRRR!"

"I'll take that as a yes," he said.

Laguna gave Ella a bicycle. It was purple and white, with training wheels and tassels on the handle bars. Rinoa had never learned to ride one, but Zell promised to teach Ella in the afternoons after school. He was still assigned to look after Rinoa, and she suspected he was looking for something to do besides watch Rinoa stare at walls.

"We'll have those training wheels off in no time, kiddo," Zell swore.

Quistis showed up late with a bag of educational coloring books and apologies about being held up. Things were going on at Garden, things that Rinoa paid no attention to because they didn't involve Squall or finding the people who had harmed him.

Selphie gave Ella a big box of craft supplies, full of pipe cleaners and scraps of lace and fabric, glitter, glue, markers and an assortment of other stuff that was sure to wind up all over the house. Rinoa didn't care if it did. Ella was delighted and for the first time since the funeral, she was not preoccupied with Squall's fate.

Afterward, once all the guests had gone home, Ella sat on the floor with Laguna, happily chatting to her new stuffed animals and dolls while Rinoa sat on the couch between Selphie and Zell. Zell's arm laid around her shoulders, Selphie's arm was linked through hers and they sat quietly, watching Ella entertain herself.

"It's such a mess in here," Rinoa said. "I should get up and clean it."

"You should put your feet up and let us handle it," Selphie said. "You just hang out with Ella. Want some tea?"

"Thanks, I'm okay," she said. "And don't bother with the mess. I just want to sit here with you guys for a while."

Selphie laid her head against Rinoa's arm and gave her a side hug. It was too tight, but welcome.

"I know I haven't said it, but thank you guys," she said. "For everything."

"That's what friends are for," Selphie said.

Ella crawled into Rinoa's lap and yawned.

"Did you have a good day, sweetie?" Rinoa asked.

"Yep," she said. "I wish daddy was here."

Rinoa swallowed around the lump in her throat and held her daughter tighter.

"Me too, sweetie," she whispered. "Me too."

* * *

Seifer and Ellone learned almost nothing from the Shumi about Accountant or where he might be. Seifer found himself annoyed by the Shumi and their slow pace, slow speech and roundabout way of making a point. He let Ellone do all the talking for a change. She was accustomed to their way of life and they were more receptive of her than they were of Seifer.

"Accountant became greedy," the Shumi Elder said. "He chose to leave us for material things. Very much like NORG. He has evolved and will continue to evolve as his gluttony grows."

"Is there any way to locate him?" Ellone asked.

"We do not know," the Elder said. "I am truly sorry."

"It's very important," Ellone said. "I don't think Squall has much time left... If he's still alive."

"This is very sad news," he said. "The Shumi have much respect for Commander Leonhart."

"You know him?" Seifer asked, surprised.

"We have met," Elder said. "He was a very thoughtful man."

Seifer snorted. Thoughtful would not be Seifer's first choice for describing Squall.

"Thank you for your time," Ellone said. "If you think of anything else, please let us know. We'll be leaving in the morning."

Seifer followed Ellone from the Elder's house, annoyed that there hadn't been anything useful. This had proved to be a waste of time. Irritated, he kicked at a rock and sent it flying. A nearby Shumi gathering flowers gasped and stared at his behavior.

"Can you not throw a tantrum in public, please?" Ellone hissed. "It's not appropriate here."

"I don't need your lecture," he said.

"Obviously you do," she said. "Instead of being sulky, how about we try and figure out what to do next?"

"I'm getting sick of dead ends."

"So am I," she said. "Nobody wants to get this over more than I do. He's my brother. My  _family_. I'm scared to death that he's actually already dead, and if he isn't, that he will be soon, but you don't see me losing it every time we hit a dead end!"

Seifer pressed his lips together and shoved his hands in his pockets. She had a point, but he didn't like grasping at straws or working so hard without result. Seifer got results. One way or another, he got things done and he wasn't used to jobs where the path wasn't clear.

"Let's get something to eat," Ellone said. "Then we'll hash out a plan, okay?"

"What's for dinner?" Seifer said. "Roots and berries?"

"Why do you have to complain about everything," Ellone said. "It's one more night. Tomorrow, you can go back to your steady diet of liquor and junk food."

"Hyne, you're salty."

"Pot. Kettle. Black."

"Yeah, but everybody expects me to be salty," Seifer said. "You, it comes out of nowhere."

"Only around you."

"Really..." Seifer said with a wide grin.

"Don't start," she said. "I'm too hungry to deal with you right now."

Seifer chuckled and held the door for her as they entered the hotel. There was no dining area but the hotel provided breakfast and dinner in the room. When they entered, their meal was already on the table and Seifer had difficulty identifying what it was. There was a bowl that looked like pasty oatmeal, a plate of assorted nuts and strange, bumpy purple berries. Next to it was a pitcher of cloudy orange-brown liquid.

He kicked off his boots at the door and sat down at the table. He frowned at the meager fare. How did they live on this stuff?

Ellone dug in without complaint, but Seifer picked at his. As a cadet, he took a lot of pride in being able and unafraid of eating anything put in front of him. He'd eaten things in survival class and on dares that would turn most people's stomach. Now that he'd grown accustomed to quality food, food not prepared in bulk and served from a steam table, he was less eager to sample the unknowns.

It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't five-star fare, either. The juice, or whatever it was, tasted like carrots and dirt. Seifer spit it out after one sip and drank a glass of water instead.

"What next?" Ellone asked. "What do we do now?"

"Hell if I know," Seifer said.

"I was thinking."

Here it comes. Seifer popped a berry in his mouth and motioned for Ellone to continue.

"Thalia was in Balamb," Ellone said. "How did she get there, and how did she leave?"

"Didn't chase her, so I don't know."

"If she took the train, she would have to provide identification," Ellone said. "There would be camera footage from the platform. Right?"

"All that does is prove she was there," Seifer said. "I doubt she used a valid form of id anyway."

"It could give us an idea of where she was headed."

Seifer pushed his plate away and sat back to look at her. It wasn't the worst plan, and light years better than anything he'd considered as a next step, but it wasn't helpful either. Weeks had passed since the incident, and Thalia Blackheart could be anywhere in the world by now.

"Maybe she didn't leave by train," Ellone continued. "They were headed for the harbor. Maybe they're on a boat."

Now that was something to consider. It was more problematic than the train, but worth a second thought. If the woman and her friend chartered passage, then the crew and any passengers would have encountered them at some point. That made those people potential witnesses. If the Blackhearts had their own means, they would eventually have to stop at port somewhere. The sea provided plenty of food, but it didn't cough up toilet paper or dry goods with any regularity.

Thalia Blackheart was memorable, whether she appeared they way she did in pictures, or the way she'd appeared to Seifer, someone would remember it.

The more Seifer thought about it, the more sure he became that the reason they couldn't be found was that they ran their operation from a sailing vessel or a small ship. It made sense. Edea and the White SeeDs had evaded detection for years by keeping a low profile. Even now, they were notoriously difficult to locate.

And, they were looking for Edea.

"We'll start canvassing ports," Seifer said. "Get a photo circulating. See if anyone bites."

"Maybe we should meet up with Edea somewhere," Ellone said. "Turn the tables on them, make the hunter become the prey."

"I'd love to do that," Seifer said. "But it's too big a risk. For you and Edea."

Ellone frowned.

"You underestimate the White SeeD," Ellone said.

"You underestimate our opponent," he countered.

"Just a thought," she said. "We don't really have a lot of options, you know."

Ellone excused herself and readied for bed in the bathroom. Seifer heard the shower come on and called Laguna.

"Can you get someone to track registration of a small to medium sized shipping or sailing vessel?" Seifer asked.

"Course I can," Laguna said. "What city?"

"All of them," Seifer said. "Have them check for Blackheart or Accountant."

"...that will take a while. Couple weeks, maybe."

"It's the only lead I've got," Seifer snapped. "I've got nothing else to go on."

"I'll see what we can do," Laguna said. "The Shumi weren't helpful?"

"They were helpful, they just don't know anything."

"I'll let you know what we come up with," Laguna promised.

As Seifer settled down, there was a thud and the sound of things scattering across tile in the bathroom. Seifer got up and knocked on the door.

"Elle, you all right?"

No answer.

Worried, he pushed the door open and found Ellone lying face down on the bathroom floor, one cheek pressed to the tile. Her brown eyes were wide open, but unseeing, and she repeated Squall's name, rank and ID number in a voice that did not belong to her.

Seifer dropped down and shook her shoulder, but her eyes remained fixed on something far away.

"Elle?" he asked. "Can you hear me?"

"This isn't real," she said. "None of it. It's all a fucking lie."

All the hair on Seifer's arms prickled. Ellone never cursed, at least, not to Seifer's recollection, and the voice that came out of her mouth was Squall's.

"It's not real, not real, not real, it isn't real, it's just a lie, not real, not real," she chanted.

Concerned and confused, Seifer shook her harder. It didn't rouse her. She continued the chant, the tone plaintive and childlike, like a plea to ward off a nightmare.

"Come on, Elle, snap out of it," he urged. "This better not be a joke, 'cause it ain't funny."

She opened her mouth and a long, thin and heartbreaking wail rose from her lips, still more masculine than feminine, and it was full of pain and suffering. Fat tears slid from the corners of her eyes as the sound built to a howl of agony.

What the hell was she seeing?

Seifer lifted her up off the floor and into his lap. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling and a shudder passed through her small body. He'd seen her go into her dream trance a dozen and a half times, and not once had she behaved this way.

"Wake up, Elle," Seifer insisted. "Come on, wake up."

Her head whipped to the side like she'd been struck, and her scream was cut short. Blood began to pour from her nose, her lip split open and swelled. Seifer stared at Ellone's flushed cheeks and wounds, confused by their spontaneous appearance.

Ellone lifted her hands, wrapped them around his neck and pressed her thumbs hard into his windpipe. He coughed, inhaled and coughed some more as he broke her grip. Struggling against his restraining hands, Ellone began to moan in Squall's voice again. Fat tears spilled down her cheeks and a low, closed lipped moan of misery came from her throat.

Her whole body began to shake, her arms and legs thrashed and her head tipped back, chin jerking toward the ceiling. It was like she was in the grips of a violent seizure, and all Seifer could do was wait for her to come out of it.

Seconds stretched to long, terrifying minutes as the woman jerked and shuddered in his arms. The longer it went on, the more worried Seifer became. He had a feeling this wasn't normal, not something she regularly experienced in her dream world, and he had no idea how long it would last or how to bring her out of it.

Slowly, the thrashing eased, the tremors in her limbs died down, and her unseeing eyes slowly focused. When they fixed on Seifer, she burst into tears.

"Hyne, Elle," Seifer murmured. "What the hell was that?"

Seifer set her against the tub, went up on his knees, wet a washcloth and cleaned the tears and blood from her face.

Her lip was swollen, her nose broken.

Ellone closed her eyes, shivering like she'd caught cold. Seifer moved in close to look at her nose. A ridge of bone pressed against skin and Seifer grimaced on her behalf. It would have to be set before he could heal.

"Elle?"

"Give me a minute," she whispered.

"Any other injuries I need to know about?"

She lifted the hem of her shirt to reveal a fresh bruise on her ribs. It was already purple in the center, dark red on the edges, about the size of a fist. Seifer frowned as he brushed his fingertips over it. It was abraded on one side and red with swelling.

Ellone swallowed and wiped her eyes, then winced at the pain in her nose.

"I need to set that," he said. "Before you make it worse."

She touched the bridge of her nose gingerly, felt the protrusion of bone and the swelling and resigned herself to Seifer's assistance.

"This is gonna hurt, but it'll be over quick."

She nodded, and Seifer slid forward to take her face in his hands. He laid a thumb on each side of her nose and with practiced ease, shifted the bone back into place. There was a second of resistance, a satisfying pop, then her pretty nose was perfectly straight again.

Seifer brushed away her tears, healed the wound and sat back on his heels to look at her.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"What the hell happened?" Seifer asked.

"I got pulled in. That's never happened before."

"He pulled you in?"

Ellone nodded. "I think so. He reached out for me. For help. I don't know how."

"You had a seizure, you know that?"

"Squall had a seizure," she corrected. She wiped a hand over her eyes, made a sound like a half sob, sniffled and looked up at Seifer. "He's in bad shape, Seifer. Really bad shape."

"But he's alive?"

"For now, but I don't think he has much time left."

Seifer helped her to her feet and guided her back to the room. He sat her on the bed, covered her, then plopped down at the foot and stretched out, facing her.

"Start from the beginning."

* * *

As Ellone was about to climb into bed, she was pulled in, an urgent plea for help loud and clear in her head.

It was different than any connection she'd made before. Any time she viewed someone's past, it was like watching the scene from the sidelines. This time, everything happened as if she was Squall. Her vision was limited to what he could see, what he could feel, and right away, she could tell Squall was in poor health, both physically and mentally.

His body was wasted and thin and covered in bruises from violence and malnutrition. His wrists, rubbed raw from cuffs, were chained to the wall in a small dark room. A steady, silent chant moved his lips:  _Leonhart, Squall. SeeD Rank A, Balamb Garden Commander. ID 41269._

Across from him, Zell and Rinoa were locked in a passionate embrace, pieces of clothing scattered around their feet. Horrified, Ellone tried to blink away the vision as Zell pressed Rinoa back against the wall, his lips on her throat and his hands on her hips to peel away her skirt.

Ellone knew for a fact neither could actually be there. Both were in Balamb, and Ellone was sure this was an event that had never happened. Maybe sometime well into the future it was possible that their friendship would develop into something more, but right now, it was highly unlikely it had even crossed their minds.

It had to be some hallucination brought on be stress, fear and hunger, but the effect was devastating to Squall.

"This isn't real," Squall said.

Ellone reached out to Squall to reassure him, to swear that this was not how it was. Squall turned away from the vision to face the wall, muttering curses and a repeated chant to convince himself it wasn't real.

_Not real, not real, not real._

"It's real, Squall," a woman said. "Didn't take her long to move on, did it?"

Thalia Blackheart had appeared silently, and she crouched down beside Squall to stroke his hair and cheeks. Ellone and Squall both cringed at her touch, and Squall covered his face defensively as though anticipating an attack.

_Help me. Please, help me._

Squall's reward for cowering was a swift kick in the ribs. He curled into a ball, his bruised ribs on fire and his breathing shallow and fast. His arms were wrenched away from his face and twisted behind his back, a thumb pressed into a nerve that ripped an involuntary scream from his lips.

_Help me Sis oh god help me I don't want to die here not like this I don't want to die.._

Ellone's strong, tough, brave little brother had been reduced to a terrified, abused child. He begged for salvation, for an end to this horror, and there was nothing Ellone could do to give him that. Maybe, she could take him into memories of better times to help him get through it, but that might only make it worse.

Ellone gave him what she hoped was the mental equivalent of a hug, promised she would do everything in her power to bring him home, but it felt like a lie. She didn't know where he was, how to find him, or how to help. He was dying slowly and painfully and she was sure he wouldn't survive this if she couldn't get him help now.

Squall was released and rolled onto his back. Thalia Blackheart crouched over him, her silvery eyes full of mirth as she grasped his face between her hands.

In that moment, Ellone attempted something she'd never done before. She sought a connection with Thalia through Squall. If she could get in Thalia's head, perhaps she could find out who she was, where they were, and maybe make her stop for long enough to get Squall free.

Thalia sat up as Ellone tested her ability to connect. Ellone expected to be forced out, but Thalia just stared down at Squall in curiosity.

"Interesting," Thalia said. "How did you get in?"

As Ellone looked into Thalia's eyes, she realized why she thought she'd known her. Thalia was the presence that had kept her out of Squall's head thus far. Ellone had not recognized her personally, she had recognized the woman's power.

"Well, since you're here, maybe we should have some fun," Thalia rose to her feet. "

Thalia lifted her foot and kicked Squall square in the face with her steel toed boot. Ellone was blinded by pain, her vision went white, tinged red on the edges. Bone snapped and pain flared through her face. It brought tears to her eyes and she tasted blood on her lips.

_We'll find you, Squall. I promise you. Just hang on, we'll find you._

Abruptly, Squall sat up and wrapped his hands around Thalia's throat and squeezed with all his might. She choked, coughed, clawed at Squall's wrists as the face before them morphed into Rinoa.

"Please, Squall, don't," Rinoa choked. "Please!"

Hands shaking, Squall let go. Rinoa faded back to a laughing Thalia.

"You're half dead and still fighting," Thalia said. "Incredible."

_I want to die, Elle._

If Thalia and the abuse hadn't scared her, the hopelessness she felt in Squall did. He wanted to give up. He was weak, sick, and tired of suffering.

 _You can't quit on us, Squall. Not yet. Please keep fighting. Please,_ Ellone thought _._

_I don't know what's real anymore._

_Your family. That's real. You have a wife and daughter that love you. Laguna loves you. I love you,_  Ellone swore.  _You have to keep fighting for them, okay? Because Rinoa is..._

But Ellone couldn't say it. She couldn't tell Squall that there was a little one on the way, not when he was so broken down and so very close to death. It would be cruel to tell him, and for that to be the last thing he thought of when the end came. How he'd failed his unborn child, just like he'd believed for so long that Laguna had failed him.

_I'm tired, Sis. So damn tired. I'm sorry._

That was when the seizure started.

Back in the present, Ellone blinked back tears as Seifer, at the end of the bed, stared back at her. It was hard to read his expression, but his lips were pressed into a thin line and he looked down at his hands for a long moment.

"We need to find him," she said. "He's going to die if they don't kill him first. He's sick, starving, and he's doubting everything."

"Any clue where he might be?"

"Somewhere near water. On a ship maybe."

"They're looking for Edea."

"Probably."

"You get anything else?" he asked.

"No."

Seifer shifted, crossed his ankles and leaned back against the foot board.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Physically, I'm fine," she said. "Everything else, not so much. I can't even imagine how he's managed to deal with that every day without going crazy. What you did to him in D-District is nothing compared to how bad this is. It's unimaginable that someone could be that cruel."

Seifer's jaw twitched at the mention of D-District. There was genuine sorrow in his eyes when he looked away from her.

So he did regret it after all.

"Show me," he said. "Show me your memories."

"Are you sure you want that?"

"...I'm sure."

Ellone showed him everything she'd seen. It didn't take long, but when they emerged back in the present, Seifer's face as grim, hard and his eyes cold.

"We should get some sleep," he said. He stood, came to her side and made her sit up. He arranged the pillows behind her so that she was propped up. "Keep your head above your heart or your face is gonna hurt like hell tomorrow."

Ellone nodded, watched him cross the room to his own bed as she settled into the pillows.

"Seifer?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you get anything out of that?" she asked. "What I showed you?"

Seifer switched out the light. The rustle of linens and the squeak of mattress springs as he made himself comfortable was his only response.

Ellone thought he'd fallen asleep when he finally did answer her.

"...they're definitely on a ship," he said. "And Leonhart's a gonner."


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

 

10

* * *

On average, a man could live without food for up to a month and a half. Beyond that, it was only a matter of time.

Squall was sure it had been longer, but he had no real way to tell. Even with the weekly meal of bread or soup, Squall knew he was in trouble. His hair was falling out, his nails brittle. One of his teeth was loose and his gums were swollen, but that might have been from the beatings. Just the act of sitting up made him dizzy and shaky.

He tried to conserve his energy by laying perfectly still, and only moved when he had to.

He slept a lot.

Ellone had told him to keep fighting, but he doubted all his reasons for staying alive. He doubted himself, his memories, and it was harder every day to believe any of it was real. Sometimes, he doubted he'd ever been anything but Thalia's favorite toy, but that life was all he had. He had to believe that the images of Rinoa moving on with her life were false. He had to believe she was waiting for him to come home, that she would welcome him back, that she hadn't found another to fill the empty spot in their bed.

Sis had promised it wasn't true...

_...it is unseasonably warm for March, and Squall is boiling in his leather jacket. Rinoa teases him for wearing it to the beach, but old habits die hard. Rinoa is dressed appropriately for the weather, in a pale blue sun dress that falls just above her knees. Heedless of the still-cold water, she wades in and laughs as the waves surge around her calves. She gathers the skirt of her dress in one hand, exposing pale, smooth thighs to the elements. Squall can't take his eyes off her and love mingles with lust as she turns her smile on him..._

...but Squall wasn't even sure if Ellone had really been there, or what he'd really seen. For a short time, seconds maybe, he was not in this prison, but in a dark so vast, it made time compression look like full daylight.

Maybe he'd imagined her there. Maybe, she hadn't come when he'd pleaded for her help.

When Thalia brought him a tray laden with food one morning, Squall was suspicious. He sat, dizzy, tired, sick, and stared at her offering. A bowl of hearty fish stew with vegetables and big chunks of meat. A sandwich with cheese. A banana.

It had to be an illusion. Some new way to torment him. He would reach for the spoon and there would be nothing there but a stale slice of bread. Or nothing at all.

It smelled divine. His mouth watered and his stomach clenched painfully at the thought of actual food.

He ate every bite, slowly, to avoid getting sick, and because that was the only way he could do things now. The effort of lifting the spoon from the bowl to his mouth exhausted him, so he put it down and lifted the bowl to his lips and swallowed every last drop.

As the much needed calories hit his system, he felt instantly better. He didn't trust that there would be another meal after this one, so he savored every bite, ate every last morsel and crumb, licked the bowl, and even considered eating the banana peel in case there were calories to be had there...

_...her skin is kissed with pink from sunlight, not quite a burn but close, and warm to the touch. She smells of sunlight and salt water and the way she smiles at him as she slips out of the sun dress makes his insides tremble. She has given him exclusive rights to touch what he wants, when he wants, but he holds back when they are alone. It isn't the physical desire that scares him. He can deal with that on his own. It's the intensely personal nature of touching and being touched. Allowing himself be vulnerable, that is so much harder than anything he's ever done..._

...and his limbs shook less as he laid down on the thin blanket, his mind clearer, and he waited for the punishment that always followed Thalia's acts of kindness.

It didn't come.

She sat on the blanket beside him, stroked his head, her nails scratched lightly against his scalp and neck the way Rinoa did to get him to relax.

God, how he missed her. His throat closed up as he thought of her, heartbroken, alone, lying awake at night because he wasn't there to soothe her back to sleep. Or worse, snuggled into Zell's chest and sound asleep, Squall just a memory that had been replaced by someone who would never hold back his feelings or hesitate to smile or show affection in public.

Tears welled in his eyes as Thalia guided his head to her lap and her fingers twined through his hair. He didn't fight it, didn't resist – he didn't have the strength, he was at her mercy.

Her kindness confused him, but if there was any real kindness in his captor, she would have killed him or send him home. A meal and genuine comfort did not make her a friend.

_...pale violet lace against creamy sun-kissed skin, Rinoa smiles at him without fear as she stands in the middle of his bedroom, warm and inviting and he knows if he steps into her arms, there will be no going back. She's so beautiful, his chest hurts, it's hard to breathe, and he watches with his heart in his throat as she sheds bits of lace undergarments, revealing all of herself to him. She is a lamb that has offered herself up for sacrifice and he trembles as she comes to him, kisses his lips and murmurs the words that will prove to be his undoing..._

"Your friend Cid is not being very cooperative," Thalia said. "He's the reason you're here, you know. Had he chosen to make good on his promises, you would have gone home a long time ago."

Squall had nothing to say. He didn't care who was to blame. It was probably a lie anyway,

"I'd planned to kill you, but I admire you too much," she said. "There's too much fight in you and I respect that. But that leaves me with a problem, doesn't it? If I can't bring myself to kill you, and I can't let you go home, what do I do with you?"

"Death match," he murmured. He was only half-joking. "Single combat."

Thalia chuckled and caressed his cheek as though she was his lover. For all he knew, he'd unwittingly become that, but what he remembered of the last - hyne how long had it been? - it could have been a lie. He couldn't say with any degree of certainty that he hadn't, that they hadn't, but he wasn't truly convinced it had really happened. It was all mixed up in fantasies of Rinoa and home, and hallucinations about things that may or may not have been real.

"If you were stronger, I'd consider it," she said. "A fitting death for a warrior in good health, but I've neglected you to the point of no return. You wouldn't even be able to hold your sword aloft."

There was no malice or cruelty in her voice but something closer to regret.

"I'd still die fighting," he said tiredly. "This... Is undignified."

"I'd expect you to want nothing less," she said. Her thumb brushed over the top of his ear and Squall fought back the shudder of pleasure it elicited from him. "You are a brave man, Squall Leonhart."

"I just want to die or go home," he said. "Pick one. Go with it."

"It isn't that simple anymore. We need you alive. The world believes you're dead," she said. "And I've grown quite fond of you."

Squall began to laugh. It was absurd, and he knew better than to expend energy he didn't have, but after everything, after all her cruelty, he couldn't help it. His laughter built from amusement to hysteria to panic. It left him gasping and choking on sobs that he didn't dare let out.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of this," she said. "It wasn't your fight."

_...being with her is incredible and scary and feels good, so good, he forgets to think, but it is over far too soon, his nervousness and inexperience have worked against him and leave him ashamed and inadequate, a failure at the thing all red-blooded men were expected to be good at, to want and need second only to food or air. It happened too soon, too fast, he wasn't ready, and he flees to the bathroom to hide his blush and shaking hands and he doesn't want to see the look of disappointment in her eyes..._

Thalia's hand glided over his shoulder down his arm and back up, over his cheek and hair and Squall closed his eyes and silently willed it to be Rinoa. Not here, not anywhere near this place, but at home where he could kiss her properly and immerse himself in the scent of her skin. He wanted that so bad, it hurt worse than any pain they'd inflicted so far.

"Your wife is pregnant. Did you know that?" Thalia said. "She's due in May."

Just when he thought maybe she was done being cruel, that she would leave him be. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse.

His heart gave a hard and painful squeeze at the thought of Rinoa going through that alone. It was followed by a pang of bitter jealousy at the thought that maybe, just maybe it wasn't his.

It was insane to believe that Rinoa had been unfaithful, but Thalia had planted so many seeds of doubt, had twisted reality so much, Squall could no longer be sure.

_...when she comes to him, there is no reproach, only love and reassurance and a gentle touch and lighthearted teasing when he attempts to say the words back to her and he stumbles, checks himself at the last moment and winds up saying something stupid that he can never take back. But he loves her, he loves her, he loves her, and there is nothing that will ever change that..._

"Want to make a wager whether it will be a boy or a girl?" Thalia asked. "Or if you're feeling masochistic, if it's even yours?"

"Fuck you," he breathed. "I don't care."

"No?"

_...it is magic, the way life begins. Two cells meet and multiply, two becomes four, four becomes eight, eight becomes sixteen and each individual cell knows where it belongs. Out of nothing, something beautiful is created. It is miraculous the way two separate individuals can come together to make one..._

Ellone had been trying to tell him something.

Why he needed to keep fighting.

He'd been wrong. This was worse than any pain she'd inflicted on him so far. If it was true, he was needed at home now more than ever.

"Still want me to kill you, Squall?"

* * *

Zell accompanied Rinoa to her twenty-week doctor's appointment. Selphie had a mild phobia about doctor's offices, claiming the smell made her ill, and Quistis was too busy to break away. That left Zell, who was all too willing to go. He was far more excited about the appointment than Rinoa was, and he was thrilled to be there when she found out if it was a boy or a girl.

The early February morning was overcast and cold, and Zell swore he could smell snow on the breeze as they climbed in the car to head to the clinic. If the low, dark clouds were any indication, there was a good chance they'd see a few flurries before the day was over.

Ella would like that. She'd never seen snow.

In the exam room, Zell bounced in his seat and took in all the informational posters on the walls about women's health, pregnancy and ovulation, less scandalized or uncomfortable than Rinoa expected him to be, and a little too enthusiastic for his own good.

She appreciated the support and his unquestioning willingness to help her through it, but she was clad in a hospital gown that barely covered the tops of her thighs and it was a little awkward to be semi-exposed in front of him.

Not that Zell noticed. He was too busy scoping out the room with its posters and scale models of female reproductive parts.

"Chill," she told him. "You're making me crazy."

"So how does this work?" he asked. "Like, they do the sonogram or ultrasound or whatever and tell you if it's a boy or a girl?"

"Pretty much," she said. "There is a waiting room, you know."

"I'm cool here," he said. "Figure, it'll be good practice for whenever I have kids."

"You don't even date."

"I do too," he said defensively. "Not lately, but... Just because I'm going through a dry spell doesn't mean I don't want to settle down eventually."

"Don't let me stop you," Rinoa said.

She was cranky for the sake of being cranky. She hadn't yet come to terms with being a widowed mother with another on the way, and she had yet to feel the same excitement she'd felt when she was pregnant with Ella. It was unfair to her unborn child, but she resented being pregnant without Squall around to share it with her. It was daunting to think that in a few months, she would have a brand new little one to care for and he wouldn't be there to see her through it.

"It's like you girls have really cool superpowers," Zell said as his eyes fell on a poster depicting fetal development. "Guys can't do anything this awesome."

Rinoa looked at him, unsure if he was joking or not, but he was being perfectly serious. She burst out laughing and patted him on the arm, annoyance and awkwardness forgotten.

"You're too much sometimes," she said.

"Why? Did I say something weird?"

"You just seem really fascinated with all this," she said.

"I think it's neat," he said with a shrug. "Can I ask you something?

"Hmm?"

"What's it like?" he asked. "Being pregnant? Knowing there's a tiny person in there?"

Rinoa ran her hands over her hospital gown clad stomach and frowned.

"Weird," she said. "I feel bloated and fat. Kinda gassy."

Zell laughed, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"You look great," he said. "You think it's going to be a boy or a girl?"

"I don't know."

"I think it's a boy," Zell said. "You've already got a girl, so odds are, this one is a boy, right?"

"It doesn't really work like that," Rinoa said. "The odds for a boy aren't any higher because I already have a girl."

But Zell was right. It was a boy.

He gave her a high-five when the doctor pointed out what was supposed to be a tiny little penis on the monitor but to Rinoa, resembled a grainy blob that was indistinguishable from the rest.

"Little guy's hung like a moose," Zell said proudly. "Look at that!"

Rinoa swatted him on the arm, told him to shut up, but the harder she tried not to giggle, the harder it was to hold it back. She burst out laughing, as the perplexed doctor looked on for a second before deciding Rinoa needed a minute to collect herself.

"How dare you say that about my kid!" Rinoa said. She tried and failed to keep a straight face and started to giggle again. "A moose?"

"I figured you probably wouldn't appreciate chipmunk."

Rinoa dissolved into laughter.

"It's good to hear you laugh, Rin," Zell said. "Like, for real."

Rinoa sobered and leaned back on the exam table and looked at Zell's sunny grin.

"It feels good to laugh," she admitted.

But she felt guilty. For laughing when Squall was not there to laugh with her. Guilty that he wasn't the one sitting next to her grinning like a fool.

"Thanks. For coming with me."

"Hey, no problem," he said. "Happy to do it."

"Really?"

"Really," he said seriously.

* * *

As they left the clinic and stepped onto the sidewalk, it began to snow. Zell took Rinoa's hand and guided her to the car, in case it was slippery, but he turned his face up to the clouds and grinned as flakes fell against his cheeks. The forecast had only called for flurries, but maybe they'd get lucky and get enough of a dusting to do something fun with it.

That was a nice thought. Letting go for an afternoon to enjoy some childish fun. Hyne knew, they all needed it.

By the time he pulled the car into the driveway, the snow fell fast and hard and collected against the curb and at the base of the trees on the lawn. He got out and helped Rinoa up the walk as Selphie and Ella bounded from the house.

"It's snowing!" Selphie shouted. "It's a gift from the faeries, Ella!"

Ella looked around, eyes wide with wonder at the strange white stuff that fell from the sky. She held out her hand to catch the snow flakes, and her little mouth opened in surprise as one landed in her palm.

"It's cold," she said.

Zell reached down and picked her up, grinning at the wonder in her face as she gazed up at the sky. Flakes collected in her dark hair and on her eyelashes and she blinked rapidly each time one touched her face.

"What do you say we go inside and get your jacket and mittens?" he asked. "Then we'll come back out and play in it."

"Can we?" Ella asked Rinoa.

"Sure," she said.

It took a while to find a warm enough jacket for Ella, and Rinoa had to dig through closets to find something for Selphie. Zell was fine in his hoodie and the waterproof windbreaker he wore when he went running. Selphie wound up in an over-sized cardigan that made her look like a kid playing dress up. She bragged that she didn't need it, being a long time resident of Trabia.

By the time they made it out to the back lawn, the snow coated the grass and the street, and showed no sign of stopping. Delighted, Zell showed Ella how to roll a small snowball and for the next hour, as the snow continued to fall, they chased each other around, tossing pathetic handfuls of slushy snow at each other. Ella shrieked with laughter every time she managed to hit him and every time Zell missed her on purpose.

Selphie joined in, but Zell was her only target. She whipped hard-packed balls of ice at him with no mercy and coaxed Ella into gaining up on him. Rinoa didn't join in, but she watched from the porch steps with a smile, her mittened hands on her stomach. Though she was smiling, her eyes were sad and far away.

Zell wished there was something he could do to make that look go away.

"We should make a snow man," Selphie said.

"I don't think there's enough snow for that," Zell said. The snow still fell, but due to the game, they'd either trampled it or used it. "If it keeps going, maybe."

"There is so!" Selphie said. "We haven't even touched the front yard."

"What's a snowman?" Ella asked.

Selphie explained it to her as Zell went to the step where Rinoa sat watching her daughter. He dropped down onto the step and slung his arm around her shoulders.

"You good?" he asked.

"...I'm fine."

"You're a bad liar."

She wrapped herself tighter in her coat, seeming to fold in on herself.

"Just wondering when it stops," she said. "Missing him so much it hurts. It doesn't even feel like he's gone."

Zell gave her arm a brisk rub and let her rest her head against his shoulder. He had never been in love, not like the two of them had been, but he'd been through break-ups with girls he was fond of, and it had hurt for months afterward. He couldn't even imagine how bad it would feel to lose someone he cared for as deeply as Rinoa cared for Squall. As it was, he still grieved the loss of his friend, and figured that maybe, he might always miss him.

"I thought, if something like this happened, I'd feel it because of the bond, you know?" she said. "Like, I would feel it the second his heart stopped, but I didn't. It's like he's still there and I don't know how I'm supposed to move on or make peace with it if it feels like he's still with me."

"You don't think he's still alive, do you?" Zell asked, thinking of what Ellone had said months ago.

He had no intention of bringing that conversation up because it would only give Rinoa false hope, but what she was saying wasn't all that different from what Ellone had described - the sense that maybe he wasn't really gone, even if the evidence said otherwise.

"...sometimes it feels like he still is," she said. "I know that's not healthy, but I can't help but expect him to walk through the door at six like he always did."

"It takes time, Rin," Zell said. "No one expects you to just get over it like it was no biggie."

"I know, I'm just... exhausted," she said. "There are these moments where I forget, you know? Ella will say or do something cute and I think, 'Squall would really get a kick out of that,' and then a split second later, I remember that he isn't coming home and it starts to hurt all over again."

There was nothing Zell could say to that, but he empathized. It must have been like breaking a bad habit, but more painful.

"And I'm so angry with him," she said quietly. "I know it's not his fault, but I'm furious with him. He didn't have to go on that mission. He could have sent someone else in his place. He went anyway..."

Out in the yard, Selphie and Ella hunted for sticks and rocks for the foot-tall anemic snowman they'd created together. From where Zell sat, it looked like it was as much dirt as it was snow.

"We should make a T-rexaur next," Ella said to Selphie.

"Ooh," Selphie said. "We could use bits of mulch for teeth!"

"Yeah!"

Rinoa bit her lip, ground her palms against her eyes as though she was crying, but she wasn't.

"It's pathetic that I can't even build a snowman with my own kid," she murmured. "Or take care of the housework or fall asleep at night without going to pieces because I know tomorrow will be exactly the same... I feel like I've lost myself."

"There's no expiration date on grief," Zell said. "In the meantime, Sef and I have you covered."

Rinoa sniffled, bowed her head into his neck and Zell put both arms around her and hoped that was what she needed.

When she pulled away, her eyes followed Ella and Selphie around the yard and smiled distantly at Selphie's exclamations of joy over pebbles and bits of twig. Selphie was the perfect companion for Ella. Zell might be the fun uncle, but Selphie indulged Ella's every whim and was much more of a playmate than a role model. That wasn't a bad thing, most days.

"Hey Zell?" she murmured. "You ever thought about you and Selphie? You know, dating?"

Zell stared at her, incredulous. He burst out laughing and shook his head. As if.

"No way in hell, Rin," Zell swore. "I love her and all, but that might possibly be the worst idea you've ever had."

"Why?" she asked and nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "I think you two would be cute together. You'd make adorable, short little babies."

Zell scowled. She was teasing now, but it was clear she was in favor of the idea, that she meant it.

Selphie was cute and spunky, but she was also a little too manic for Zell's tastes. A guy like him needed a little more stability than Selphie could ever offer him. He already had a hyper streak himself, but he'd calmed considerably over the years. It only manifested these days when he was nervous or excited. Selphie, on the other hand, well, she was on twenty-four-seven and she never stopped.

"Psh, we'd kill each other," he said. "Besides, she's my friend. I don't think of her that way."

"Not even a little?"

"Nope," he said. "The world is not ready for a Dincht-Tilmitt alliance, Rin. No good could come of it."

"I just want to see you happy," she said.

"I am," he promised and nudged her with his elbow. "Especially now that I'm basically getting paid to hang out with friends all day."

Ella crashed into Zell, smashed a snowball into his hair then ran away laughing. Zell wiped the snow and from his hair and face, stood and grinned down at Rinoa.

"As far as missions go, it doesn't get better than this," he said and held out his hand to her. "Come on. Let's go play. Throw some snowballs. Build a dirt dinosaur. Forget everything that sucks for a few minutes and just cut loose."

Rinoa took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"You're allowed to have fun, Rin," he promised. "No one that matters is going to judge you for it."

* * *

It _was_ fun.

Zell was right. A little activity, cutting loose, it felt good.

They collaborated on Ella's lumpy snow t-rexaur in the front yard, where the snow was still pristine and blanketed the grass. Half the neighborhood was out doing the same in their own yards. Everywhere, half constructed snow creatures and piles of snowballs littered lawns and sidewalks. A pair of teenagers further down filled buckets to make snow bricks for an igloo. There wasn't enough to pull it off, but Rinoa admired their determination, especially when they produced spray bottles of food coloring mixed with water to add color and help pack and solidify them.

It gave her an idea. The only thing better than a snow-dinosaur was one with a splash of color.

"I'll be right back," she said as she turned for the steps.

Zell frowned at her as if he thought she was about to retreat, and she smiled back, a promise to return, and went inside. In the kitchen pantry, she found bottles of red and purple food coloring and a handful of empty spray bottles meant for misting house plants that had never been used.

As she filled the bottles with water, the phone rang.

"Hello, sweetheart," her father greeted.

"Dad? Is everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because you never call me," she said. "Or return my calls unless you want something."

"I'm busy," he said.

Irritated, Rinoa added red coloring to one bottle, purple to the other.

"What do you need?"

"I was going to ask you that question," he said. "Imagine my surprise when a subordinate dropped the news on me that you were expecting."

"Oh, shit," she said and pressed a hand to her forehead. "I'm sorry."

"Indeed," he said. "When were you planning to tell me? After the baby was born?"

"I meant to, I swear," she said. "I just... Forgot. I have a lot of things on my plate."

The silence at the other end of the line was drawn out, probably for effect. He liked to use silence as an intimidation tactic, but Rinoa was not one of his minions.

"I'm very sorry to hear it's true."

Offended, hurt, Rinoa asked why.

"That should be obvious, Rinoa," he said. "It is Leonhart's child, right? Not that tattooed man you've been cohabiting with?"

"What?" she cried. "How can you ask me that?"

"Just checking," he said. "Word gets back to me. Sometimes, people assume things."

"Well, first of all, Zell is my friend," she said. "Second, he's a SeeD that's been assigned to look out for me until whatever, whoever is caught."

"Make sure it stays that way," he said. "I don't intend to let you get your heart broken by another SeeD if I can help it."

"It's not like that," she snapped. "Oh, and it's a boy, if you care. Congratulations, Grandpa."

"I'm trying to look out for you, Rinoa. I only want what's best for you."

He wanted what was best? He had a funny way of showing it. Again, she shouldn't have expected any sympathy or support from him, but she wanted it and needed it, but all he had to offer was a cold shoulder and criticism.

"I'm a grown woman," she said. "And I've been making my own decisions since I was fifteen."

"Yes, and look where that got you."

Rinoa bit back every nasty reply that came to mind, took a deep breath and leaned against the counter.

"You're not capable of being sympathetic, are you?" she asked.

"I am sympathetic, Rinoa," he said. "I am truly sorry you've found yourself in this situation. If there's anything I can do - "

"There is," she cut in. "You can visit your granddaughter more often. She lost her father and she's grieving too. You can try just being my dad instead of treating me like I'm one of your troops. And, maybe..."

She hadn't wanted to bring it up, but he needed a reminder that he'd been in her shoes.

"Maybe you can try and remember what it was like for you after mom died," she said. "Think about how bad that felt for you and multiply it by ten. And if, after that, you still can't bring yourself to have some sympathy, don't bother calling or, or..."

Rinoa had not wanted to cry, but she couldn't help it. Too many years of being the troublesome, problematic daughter combined with grief and pregnancy hormones forced it from her. She wiped her eyes, sniffled and waited for him to say something.

When he didn't, she pushed away from the counter, put the spray nozzles back on her bottles and rinsed them in the sink.

"I'm spending quality time with my daughter, so if there's nothing else I'll let you go."

"Rinoa -"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to argue with you," he said. "Please call me when you're more rational and we'll discuss your options."

Rinoa hung up on him. No doubt, he thought everything could be handled through discussion and planning, but that was not what she needed. She didn't need to talk to him about it. She needed a father, not a life coach.

A moment later, she picked up the phone and dialed Laguna.

* * *

Hours later, well after they'd built Ella's red and purple snow T-rex, and after the sun had set and the snow continued to fall, all four of them had crammed onto the pull out couch mattress in the living room to eat junk food and watch movies. Zell had produced his favorite childhood cartoon for Ella to enjoy, an episodic series about a crime-fighting hot dog and his brave companions, Mustard, Relish and Ketchup.

Ella adored it. She and Zell lay on their stomachs, facing the television, Ella rapt and occasionally convulsed by giggles, Zell like a really big preschooler next to her. The sound of their laughter was a comfort to Rinoa. Her friends were a comfort she didn't deserve, but here they were to look after her, and though she was lonely, she wasn't alone.

On screen, Kung-Fu Hot Dog and his friends fought against the tyranny of the evil Pork Chop, Baked Beans and Potato Salad. It was so silly, Rinoa couldn't help but enjoy it.

"This show is so dumb," Selphie said. "I love it!"

"I can't believe you've never seen this before, Sef," Zell said. "It's a classic."

"I don't have the attention span for TV," Selphie said.

"Yeah, I guess it would interfere with your busy schedule of mayhem, destruction and shiny things," he said.

Selphie kicked him in the leg and he grunted, shot her a dirty look, and then settled back down to focus on the TV.

Rinoa tried to keep her attention on the show, but she was too wrapped up in thoughts of all the things she needed to get done in the next four months. She hadn't even started her shopping or preparation for the new baby.

The spare room would need to be cleaned out so she could turn it into a nursery. It was full of boxes and odds and ends that had been sitting there since they moved into the house. Some of it was sentimental, but a lot of it was just items meant for donation or things that were rarely used. It would have to be painted and decorated, curtains hung, furniture purchased. She needed baby clothes and bottles and supplies, toys and all the other necessary items needed to care for her son, and there was no more time left to put it off.

Her son.

Hyne, that sounded so strange.

And names. She hadn't even thought of names yet.

It was overwhelming, daunting and scary. To be responsible for all of it on her own, it was too much. Squall should have had a say in what they named the baby or what color they painted the walls of the nursery. Rinoa was going to have to that, and many other things, in his stead.

Every time she thought she had a handle on her emotions, a new one cropped up and threatened to smother her.

She also hadn't told Ella yet. That was a big one.

As the show ended, Rinoa decided she needed to get that out of the way.

"Hey guys?" she said. "Can I have a minute alone with Ella?"

Zell pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Sure. We'll be in the kitchen. C'mon Sef."

"I heard her," Selphie griped and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "And you're not the boss of me."

Zell rolled his eyes and pushed Selphie out of the room by her shoulders. He cast a glance back at Rinoa and raised an eyebrow as if to prove his point about their conversation earlier. He and Selphie would be doomed before they even got started.

It was a nice thought. Something to distract her from her bad feelings. If she wasn't happy, someone in this mess deserved to be.

But it was another of her crackpot ideas that would never work. As cute as it might have been to watch them fall for each other, real life was no romantic comedy.

"Come here, Stelly-Belly," Rinoa said and held her arms open for her daughter. "I've got something very important to tell you."

Ella scrambled into her arms, snuggled into her side and for a minute, Rinoa was content just to hold her tight. When she let her go, she took Ella's hand and let it rest on her stomach.

"You're getting fat," Ella said.

Rinoa laughed, drew a hand over Ella's dark hair and looked into her blue eyes that were too much like Squall's to not see him in their depths.

"Well, that's because there's a baby in there," she said. "You're going to be a big sister soon."

Ella blinked at her, uncomprehending, then frowned darkly at the swell beneath her hand. She snatched her palm away and sat back to glare at Rinoa. There was too much Squall in that look. In her childish indignation, she had mirrored the look he got when he decided to dig in his heels and stand firm, be it the fight against Ultimecia or any time Rinoa tried to add new colors to his wardrobe.

"I don't want to be a big sister," she said.

"That's too bad, because I was hoping you'd help me pick a name for your new little brother before he comes," she said.

Ella's bottom lip jutted out and started to tremble.

"I don't want a brother."

Rinoa hadn't counted on Ella being upset. She had expected worry and a lot of questions, but not the deep resentment she saw in Ella's eyes now. Of course she would want to be the only child, especially now when Rinoa's attention was so divided and Squall wasn't there to make up for it. She felt his absence in ways that had not even occurred to Rinoa.

_I'm not being a very good mother..._

From now on, Ella had to come first. She could not afford to stare at the walls, wishing for a thing that would not happen. She could not walk around in a daze, lost in her own pain when her child needed her. Selphie and Zell being there had made it easy to forget how much Ella needed her.

"Are you afraid I won't love you as much?" Rinoa asked.

Ella nodded. Tears welled in her big blue eyes.

"I promise that won't happen," she said. "Not ever."

"But it did," Ella said. "When Daddy died."

That hurt. It hurt a lot.

_I'm a really terrible mother..._

"You mean... You feel like I stopped loving you when Daddy died?" Rinoa asked gently. "Or like I don't love you the same?"

Ella nodded, sniffled and broke Rinoa's heart to pieces.

Rinoa eyes welled with tears as she realized she would have to let Squall go for good.


	11. Chapter 11

11

* * *

Rinoa and Selphie spent a weekend packing up the spare room, a project Rinoa had put off until it was almost too late. The majority of the stored items went in the trash or to the local donation center. The rest, the things that meant something, Rinoa packed in smaller boxes and stored them in the closet until she could get Zell to carry them up to the attic.

She stood in the nearly empty room, her arm linked through Selphie's and looked around at the space. It was bigger than she remembered. Windows on the north and east walls filled the room with soft, warm light.

Selphie slid her hands over Rinoa's stomach and grinned at her belly.

"Selphie, please stop touching my stomach."

"But you're so cute!" Selphie said as she continued to fondle. "You look like you swallowed a chocobo egg."

"Thanks," Rinoa said flatly. "That makes me feel super pretty."

"I just said you looked cute," Selphie said. "Don't be all cranky."

"Can't help it. I'm bloated, uncomfortable, and tired."

Selphie ignored her and bounced away to spin around in circles in the middle of the room with her arms flung out wide.

"You should paint it yellow," Selphie said. "With little chicobo accents. I saw this cute fabric at the craft store that would make great curtains. And you could get that chocobo lamp I showed you in that catalog and I'll make a mobile -"

"Ella and I decided on Turtles," Rinoa said gently. "Remember?"

It had taken Ella weeks to stop pouting. She'd given Rinoa the silent treatment for days until Rinoa had suggested dinosaurs as a decorating scheme.

" _Dinosaurs are_ mine _," Ella said. "He can't have them."_

" _Well, what do you think we should do?" Rinoa asked. "Frogs, maybe?"_

_Ella looked at Rinoa in an almost shrewed way and cocked her head to the side._

" _Turtles," she said. "I think we should do turtles."_

So turtles it was. It didn't matter to Rinoa so much what the theme was. It wasn't as if the baby would know or care or even be put off that his room was decorated with turtles instead of frogs. No more than Ella had cared her room was decorated with butterflies instead of a princess theme.

Selphie was disappointed, but broke into a smile and shrugged.

"I can work with that," Selphie said. "Paint the walls light green, find some cute turtle fabric for curtains..."

Rinoa slid her arms around Selphie and hugged her tight. She usually let Selphie initiate the hugging, but Rinoa was so grateful, she didn't have words to say thank you anymore.

"I'd squeeze the crap out of you," Selphie said. "But I don't want the baby to pop out on accident."

Rinoa laughed into Selphie's hair. Gave her one last squeeze and then let her go.

Selphie's hands slid over Rinoa's stomach and she leaned down, whispered something that Rinoa didn't hear, and popped back up, smiling.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," she said. "Auntie Selphie – baby boy bonding. I want him to know my voice."

A stab of sorrow cut through Rinoa's chest and her eyes got misty. Squall had liked to talk to Ella before she was born, convinced that she could hear him because of something he'd read in a book.

"Have you picked a name yet?" Selphie asked.

"No," Rinoa admitted. "I thought about naming him after Squall, but he would hate that. And... It would hurt too much."

Selphie patted her arm sympathetically.

"I have tons of ideas," Selphie said. "Dylan or maybe Tyler? Niall, or maybe Zane? Or how about Steve? Everybody likes a Steve, don't they?"

Rinoa frowned at Selphie's choices. They were all names of guys in the boy-bands Selphie was so fond of. Rinoa was  _not_  going to name her son after a pop star, no matter how pure Selphie's intentions.

"I was thinking more along the lines of relating it back to Squall somehow," Rinoa said. "Something to do with the weather or water or stars, maybe even lions?"

She'd spent hours pouring over one of the name books at the store. It was so worn from thumbing through it, she wouldn't be able to put it back on the shelf when she was done. Nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed to fit the idea she was going for, and she'd grown frustrated with her search.

Stella had been Squall's idea. It had fit so perfectly, given the significance of the stars to both of them, but also payed homage to Ellone in Ella's nickname.

It had been much easier to choose a name for a girl. There were tons of pretty names, but this time around, Rinoa's options all seemed so underwhelming.

"How about Sky?" Selphie said. "Or Rain. You could spell it with a Y!"

"Raine is Ella's middle name," Rinoa said. "Remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Selphie said. "What about... River or maybe Ocean?"

Rinoa gritted her teeth and sighed. Until she picked a name, Selphie was going to pepper her with suggestions. Not that it wasn't helpful, but Selphie never knew when to stop.

"Then there's Orion or Astor, or maybe Tempest or Sirius if you wanna go with the weather," Selphie said. "I don't know about lion names, though. You can't name him Leo or Leon or something because that's redundant. Leon Leonhart. It just sounds weird. Oooh, what about Leander? That means lion in old Estharian. Oh, but that sounds weird too. Um, what about..."

Rinoa tuned her out and walked the perimeter of the room as she imagined what it would look like when it was finished and who her baby boy would look like.

Would he have Squall's eyes, like Ella's? Or would his be brown like hers? Would his face have her features or Squall's? The slight wave in Caraway's hair or Laguna's narrow face? Would he be fiercely independent or a mama's boy? Shy or outgoing?

Only time would tell, she supposed.

And that time was coming soon.

* * *

Days later, she decided it was time to pack Squall's things, too. It was a hard decision to make, but it was even harder to go into the closet and see all his things – his uniform still hung on the back of the closet door, and all the t-shirts he insisted on folding into perfect squares, his boots and shoes and the handful of suits he'd acquired over the years.

It was painful to decide what to keep and what to donate or throw away. It didn't make sense to hang on to the stack of plain, white v-neck shirts or the neatly bundled socks in the drawer, but she wanted to. She wanted to keep everything, every last thing because it was all she had left.

Item by item, she sorted through his things and it felt like such a betrayal. Maybe she would feel better once they were gone, maybe she wouldn't, but this was something she  _had_  to do, and the sooner she got it out of the way, the sooner she might be able to move on.

But, it hurt to part with items that had seem so mundane and everyday. It hurt to let go.

There was one item she didn't dare touch or even look at. She left it where it was, on its hanger in the back of the closet, unable to part with the one thing that was most sentimental to her. It would stay where it was until she could bring herself to pack it up and put it away. Today was not that day.

"What are you doing?" Zell asked from the doorway.

Unable to articulate around the lump in her throat, Rinoa gestured at the piles.

"Oh, man," he murmured. "You sure you're ready for this?"

Rinoa nodded and tossed another t-shirt on the donation pile.

"Maybe this is a bad time, but uh, I need to talk to you," he said. "It's important."

"What's up?"

"Garden's pulling me off duty," he said. "For good."

"What?" she asked, surprised. "What happened?"

"They're um, retiring me," he said. "And a whole bunch of others. Budget problems, stuff going on. Basically, me and Selphie and the other higher ranked people are too expensive to keep, so as of next week, I'm a civilian, and they're gonna assign some newly minted kid to look after you."

This was unexpected. Rinoa knew things at Garden were not what they were before Squall died, but she hadn't known it was that bad.

"That's a huge mistake," Rinoa said. "What is Cid thinking?"

"He's gone. Thought you knew that," Zell said. "Took off right after the funeral. No one's seen or heard from him, and these debt collector guys are causing trouble for Xu and Quistis, and I don't know what's going on for real, but they didn't really have a choice."

That was news to Rinoa. Either no one had mentioned Cid's disappearance, or she'd been so out of touch with what was going on around her, she'd missed it.

"Is he missing or did he bail?"

"Bailed," Zell said and cracked his knuckles. "Freakin' coward. Apparently, he's way in debt, and instead of dealing with it, he left a note and split."

"That's sounds like something he'd do," Rinoa said.

"Sucks."

"I'm so sorry, Zell," Rinoa said. "What are you going to do?"

"I dunno," he said. "Haven't really thought that far ahead. I've got quite a bit of savings, though. I can survive on that until I figure something out."

"Well, you're welcome to stay, mission or no mission," she said. "I like having you here."

"You sure?" he asked. "I don't want to be a pain in the ass or anything. I'm sure my Ma wouldn't mind if I moved back in."

"You aren't," she said. "If not for you..."

Rinoa looked down at the piles of shirts and jeans and blinked back her tears.

"...let's just say I'd be a lot worse off than I am now," she said. "And you're a better cook than I am."

Zell laughed and plopped down on the floor next to her.

"You need any help?"

"I've got this," she said. "It's not easy, but I've got it."

* * *

Seifer had been to Odine's lab dozens of times for various reasons over the years, and he'd never quite understood what the man did there. He couldn't identify any of the equipment or what the purpose of certain machines were. Not that he cared, but he was curious.

He'd been assured that any and all subjects in Odine's custody were there of their own free will, but it hadn't always been so. Before Adel had been sealed, the man had free reign to to as he pleased, and that included experiments on little kids.

At his side, Ellone clutched her wrap tighter around her shoulders and shivered as she looked around. It must have been like revisiting the scene of a crime, her time spent there a dark spot in her past. Seifer had only heard pieces of her history and he wondered – what had Odine done to her?

Seifer reached out, grasped her shoulder in attempt to reassure her, and he didn't miss the look of shame in her eyes as she cast them to the reception desk.

"We're here to see Dr. Odine," she said. "At President Loire's request."

"Have a seat," the receptionist said. "The doctor will be with you in a minute."

A sharp scream cut through the lobby as they took their seats and Ellone visibly jumped at the sound. Maybe, it would have been best to leave her at his apartment. It wasn't necessary for her to be here. He could intimidate Odine on his own.

"What the hell goes on in this place?" Seifer asked.

Ellone folded her hands in her lap and stared toward the door.

"You know how there are questions you won't answer?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, there are some questions I won't answer."

"Fair enough."

Dr. Odine was a little too pleased to see Ellone. He ignored Seifer and fawned all over her and paid no attention to her obvious discomfort until Seifer was forced to intervene.

"Why don't you keep your hands to yourself," Seifer asked. He cracked his knuckles and towered over the man. "I"m sure if she wants you to touch her, she'll invite you."

"You vill not police me in my own lab," the man barked. "Do you vish to fisticuffs?"

Seifer snickered. "I'd love to see you try."

"Seifer, stop," Ellone said. "It's fine. Why don't you hang back and let me ask the questions?"

She gave him a pointed look and Seifer backed down.

"Fine, but just so you know, I'll break every last one of your fingers if you lay a hand on her uninvited," Seifer warned.

"Seifer," Ellone said through gritted teeth. "You're not helping."

He perched on the edge of a nearby desk as Ellone explained what little they knew of Thalia Blackheart and her abilities. Odine grew steadily more excited the more he heard, and Seifer could almost smell ozone and sulfur as the wheels in the little man's head began to turn.

"I am familiar vis her, yes," Odine said. "She vas in my custody some years after you. Her abilities vere astounding!"

"You tested her?" Ellone asked.

"For a time. She vas a difficult subject," Odine said. "Half mad by ze time she came to me."

"How old was she?"

"Nine years old," Odine said. "She did not know how to control ze power. It vas terrifying and very exciting! She vas not somesing I encountered before."

Seifer exchanged a glance with a grim faced Ellone and inclined his head slightly.

"She bends reality," Ellone said. "Is that correct?"

"She can make a person see anysing she vants zem to see," Odine said. "It iz a spectacular gift vis many military applications, however, Loire did not vant me to further my research in zis area."

"Anything?"

"Anysing!"

That explained the visions of Zell and Rinoa, the things Ellone occasionally saw in Squall's head when she was able to break through – spiders, fire, blood, the blue water of Balamb, even demons.

"How old was she when she left?"

"She did not leave, she escaped," Odine said. "Perhaps four years ago now. An orderly failed to secure her and she made my staff believe ze building vas on fire. She escaped during ze evacuation. I have not seen her since."

"Did she say anything that would make you think she had some bigger plan?" Ellone asked. "Like, taking over the world or hijacking a sorceress?"

"She vanted ze vorld to burn," Odine said. "She knew greater cruelties zan anysing I could have done in my experiments."

Ellone blinked at him, turned her face to the floor and took a deep breath. It set off an alarm inside Seifer's head, both because of the casual way he spoke of inflicting cruelty on a child, and Ellone's reaction to it.

"What kind of experiments?" Seifer asked. Ellone shot a look of annoyance his way, but Seifer stood and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Everysing from testing ze blood for genetic markers to pain threshold experiments," Odine said. "Ve vanted to see if her ability to project vivid images intensified ven stressed."

"So you hurt a kid to see how real she could make those images?" Seifer demanded.

"It vas necessary to find ze limits of her power."

So matter of fact. So devoid of compassion. It pissed him off.

Had Odine done any of that to Ellone?

Seifer knew her life during that stay with Odine had been unpleasant, but if she'd been subjected to something like that at the doctor's hands, Seifer would happily return the favor. He wasn't given to sympathy himself, but he had a secret soft spot for kids, and as he looked Ellone over, something fierce and protective and angry rose up in him at the thought of this monster doing anything to hurt her.

The hell with Odine's reasons. The hell with scientific progress or research. None of it was okay, and Seifer intended to give Laguna an earful about it when he got the chance. If he was still letting Odine conduct experiments on children, he would regret it.

"You said she was half mad when she came to you," Ellone said. "Could you tell me what made her that way?"

"She vas not able to control her power, as I said," Odine mused. "Ze visions and false realities turned her feral and wild and she did not know vich sings vere real and vich vere not. Even after she learned control, her reality vas never entirely real."

That explained a lot. Not everything, but some of it. The woman may have been fighting an imaginary war of her own creation. Or, maybe she was just completely and totally insane and her actions were part of a wild delusion she could not entirely control.

"I want the files," Seifer said.

"I can not give you ze files," Odine said, his beady little eyes narrowing as he peered up at Seifer. "Zoze are confidential."

"President Loire gave me permission to access any information I want," Seifer said. "And I want those files."

"I know who you are," Odine said. "You are ze Knight."

"Not anymore," Seifer said. "I want the files. Now."

Odine growled, huffed and spun away from them, but he returned with a box filled with file folders. Seifer thumbed through them to ensure Odine hadn't stuffed a bunch of crap inside. He sampled pages from random file folders and found bloodwork, EEG, and x-rays.

Ellone bid a Odine hasty goodbye as Seifer ushered her from the room, the box on his hip and a palm against her lower back to guide her down the hall. She seemed too distracted to protest or make him remove it, or maybe she just didn't mind.

Outside, he put the files in the back seat of the car, and opened the passenger door for Ellone, but he stopped her before she climbed inside.

"Elle?"

"I'm fine."

She didn't look fine. Her eyes were far away, her face ashen.

On impulse, Seifer reached out and pulled her close. It wasn't out of attraction or even affection but because he couldn't stand the look in her eyes. He hooked an arm around her waist and cradled her head against his chest, felt her tremble and squeezed her tight.

It was a brief embrace, just a few seconds, and as Seifer pulled away, Ellone's eyes were on him.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"Looked like you needed it," he said. "Get in the car."

Back at Seifer's apartment, where they were staying for a few days since Laguna was at a political summit in Deling City, they laid the files out on the table and separated them by medical, experimental and psychological profiles.

The woman's medical history was of less importance to Seifer. There was nothing of value to be learned from x-rays and health assays as far as Seifer was concerned.

"What are we looking for?" Ellone asked as she opened a file containing dental records and set it aside.

"I want to put together a profile of who we're looking for. Know your enemy and all that."

"You think it will help?"

"If it comes to a fight, yeah," he said. "But it might also help us figure out where the hell she is. I need to know exactly what we're dealing with. Might be the key to figuring out where she is."

For the next few hours, they poured over the files in silence. Seifer ordered pizza but it grew cold on the counter as they both immersed themselves in Thalia Blackheart's history.

As Seifer read through the experimentation documents, he became increasingly angry. Angry because all these things had been done to a kid. A kid who had been badly in need of help, and the more he learned, the more certain he was that Odine was at least partially responsible for making Thalia Blackheart the monster she became. Odine had taught her to control her ability, but he'd also been exceptionally inhumane in his testing.

Seifer felt sorry for her, but even more sorry for Ellone.

"Why the hell did Laguna let this happen on his watch?" Seifer demanded.

"I doubt he knew," Ellone said mildly as she flipped through the contents of Thalia's psychological profile. "Odine's para-magic research is invaluable, and sadly necessary."

"Putting an unarmed kid in a room with a behemoth isn't necessary," Seifer said as he flung a document across the table at her. "No matter what kind of mind-bending shit she can do."

"I'm not defending him," Ellone said. "I can tell you from experience, he's cruel and unethical, but what we know about sorcery, GF's and magic are the result of his projects. He's the reason we have a sealing chamber and the reason we were able to stop Adel, fight Ultimecia on her own turf, and why Rinoa can live a mostly normal life."

"He's the reason that Witch was even able to come back," Seifer said. "If he hadn't built that fucking machine, none of that would have happened."

"I don't disagree," she said. "But all the things that we know about the world came at the expense of something else, be it in the name of science or democracy."

Seifer frowned at her. He saw her point, but he wasn't about to concede it.

"Doesn't make it right," Seifer said. He dropped the experiment files in front of Ellone. "I'm done with those and I need a drink."

In the kitchen Seifer poured himself a glass of whiskey, then one for Ellone. He didn't care if she wasn't much of a drinker. It would take the edge off, and she could drink it or not drink it.

"So, have you learned anything yet?" she asked without lifting her eyes from the pages.

Seifer sat back and sipped his drink. He hadn't learned anything of significance about Thalia Blackheart, but he'd learned something about Ellone.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "A few things."

"Such as?"

"You're really fuckin' good liar."

Ellone's eyebrow shot up and her head lifted to meet his gaze.

"I haven't lied to you about anything."

"Not directly."

"We're not here to discuss me," she said. "So if you don't have anything that's going to help Squall, I don't want to hear it."

"I just have one question and then I'll leave it alone," Seifer said.

"What?"

"Did Odine do this shit to you?"

"Some of it," she said.

"Some of it," Seifer said slowly. "Hyne almighty, Elle. Does Laguna know?"

"No," she said firmly. "And it's going to stay that way. Do you understand me?"

"How could you keep that quiet?"

"I don't want to make it worse for him," Ellone said. "He already feels guilty enough. And none of this is why we're here, so I'm going to ask you nicely to let it go."

She swallowed down the whiskey and went to the window to stare out at the fading daylight. Seifer had put her on defense, and it showed. She was silent for a long time. Seifer poured her another drink and joined her at the window. To the west, the sky burned bright orange, hot pink and fire red, like the world had been set ablaze.

Seifer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What Thalia does, it isn't that different from what Ultimecia did to me."

"How so?"

"She used everything I wanted against me," Seifer said. "To control me and keep me in line. Even while I was awake, some of the things I thought I did turned out to be a lie. I really thought we were fighting on the right side, that what we were doing was what the world needed and that everyone saw me as a hero."

"And in reality, you weren't," Ellone said.

"Not even close," Seifer said. "But it was real easy for her to convince me otherwise."

Ellone nodded at the glass, sipped her drink.

"It took a long time to sort out what had really happened," he said. "Sometimes, I'm still not sure."

"If you're asking me to take you back so you can find out the truth, it doesn't work like that," Ellone said. "Memory isn't always reliable. All you'll see is what you thought was there."

Seifer grunted and fixed his eyes on the growing dark on the horizon.

"Are we chasing a ghost, Elle?"

"Maybe," she said. "Are you thinking of giving up?"

"Not while you say he's still alive."

Ellone turned to him, went on her toes and kissed his cheek.

"There's hope for you yet, Seifer," she said.

"I don't have a popsicle's chance in hell," he said.

The look she gave him was enigmatic, all-knowing and borderline cocky. As if she knew him better than he knew himself.

Hell, maybe she did.

"I had an idea," she said. "Why don't we get Kiros to set up a meeting, to see if we can't get them to come to us."

Seifer scoffed.

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Maybe... Kiros has some gambling debts he needs to pay off," Ellone said. "Discreetly. Put the word out that he's looking for a lender. See what pops up."

That wasn't a terrible idea. Actually, it was the best idea Seifer had heard in a while.

"I'd rather deal with it directly," he said. "We'll just say it's me. They'll believe that before they believe Kiros Seagill has a gambling problem. He's not exactly one to take risks."

"I'll go get the laptop."

Seifer watched her cross the room with a mixture of affection and bafflement, then followed her to the table.

"I'll take care of that part," he said as he took the laptop bag from her hands. "I want you to find out where Cid is."

"Why?" she asked. "I thought you said he wasn't important."

"If we find him, we'll have something they want, won't we?"

* * *

At nine months and one week pregnant, Rinoa was no longer supposed to be working, but she refused to stay home. She tried, but laying in bed was the worst possible thing she could do to herself. She thought too much or stared blankly at the television, watching daytime dramas and talk shows that were so inane and nonsensical, she could barely follow. Maybe her body needed the rest, but her mind needed stimulation more.

She waddled toward her office as the scent of fresh brewed coffee made her crave a cup of real, actual caffinated dark roast with cream and sugar. It smelled so good, her mouth watered.

She entered her office, reached for the light switch and promptly tripped over a box of copy paper that had been left in the middle of the floor. She grabbed hold of the office chair as she fell, landed on her side with a cry of pain and lay there, curled in a ball as the baby turned somersaults inside her.

"Mrs. Leonhart, are you okay?" Dana asked from the doorway. "Oh my god, did you fall?"

Dana flicked on the light and lifted her into a sitting position as Rinoa ran her hands over her stomach and exhaled from the dull pain in her hip.

"I think I'm okay," she said and brushed Dana's hands away from her shoulders. "I didn't go down too hard."

"Are you sure? I can call an ambulance."

Rinoa was sure she was okay, but she was going to have a fairly large bruise on her hip and maybe her elbow. Other than that, only her pride was damaged.

"I'm all right," she insisted. "But I'm too fat to get up on my own. Give me a hand?"

Dana held out her hand and Rinoa latched onto her wrist, pulled herself into a standing position and let herself be guided to the chair.

"Delivery guy left that there," Dana said. "I meant to move it, but it got busy and Chastity hasn't showed up yet."

Rinoa put a hand to her forehead. Chastity had started off as a solid employee, but her performance had slowly taken a turn for the worse. She chewed gum loudly while she waited on customers, she occasionally lost track of money, and now she was showing up late for work. As much as Rinoa hated to admit it, she was going to have to let the girl go.

"Give Daveda a call," Rinoa said. "See if she can come in to cover. She said she wanted more hours. And move that box, please. I'd do it myself, but I can't reach it with all this belly in the way."

Dana moved the box and Rinoa turned on the computer and called up her e-mail. In her inbox was a message from an address she didn't recognize, and there was an attachment. In the subject line was "SQUALL."

She hesitated, nearly moved it to the trash, but on impulse clicked it anyway.

Her screen was filled with an image of her husband laying on his side, his eyes closed with bloody saliva dripping from his lips. His handsome face was a battered mess, his chest covered in dark welts and bruises. In the corner of the photo was a date – October of last year.

Her breath caught in her throat and she pressed a hand over her mouth to hold back a sob.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Zell said behind her. "Oh, shit. Is that -"

Rinoa turned away from the screen and sobbed silently into her palms. Just when she thought it was getting easier, some idiot felt the need to remind her.

Zell leaned across her, typed something, and then closed the message.

"Why would someone send me that?" she murmured.

"Because some people are assholes," Zell said. "I blocked the e-mail and reported it to the admin. Probably won't do much, but I can poke around and see if I can find out who sent it."

Rinoa sniffled into her palms and when she lifted them away, she took in her friend's appearance. He wore a black tank top and carpenter's pants, and his arms and neck were smeared with grease. He smelled like motor oil and gasoline.

"What have you been doing?" she asked. "Did the car break down?"

"No, I, uh, bought the Garage," he said. "Old man Clarence retired a couple months ago, didn't really want much to do with it anymore and his kids and grand kids weren't really managing it well, so he sold it to me, cheap."

"Did you mention it to me?" Rinoa wondered. "Or was this a spur of the moment thing?"

A dull, uncomfortable cramp cut across Rinoa's lower abdomen and she shifted in her seat and looked away so Zell wouldn't see her wince. The movement caused the baby to kick her in the side and she sucked in a soft breath.

"You okay?" Zell asked.

"Just the baby, kicking," she said. "You were saying?"

"Spur of the moment," Zell said and perched himself at the end of her desk. "I paid cash, so I'm out most of savings, but I figure if I take on work from the marina, too, I'll make a decent living off it. So long as nothing major breaks that I have to pay to fix..."

"Well, that's great," she said sincerely as another, sharper cramp built in her lower back. "I'm happy for you."

"You're not okay," Zell said as he stood and leaned over her. "You just got really pale. Like _really_  pale."

"I think I might be going into labor," she said.

The baby did another flip and tap danced against her bottom rib. She winced, pushed to her feet then braced herself against the desk as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

"Oh, shit," Zell said. "Rin, you need to go to the hospital!"

His eyes were as big as saucers when she glanced up at him and she couldn't figure out why. She assumed it was just his natural, excitable nature and he was about to overreact in his usual, spectacular manner.

"I've got some time," she murmured. "I'm not having full contractions yet."

"Yeah, forget contractions," Zell said. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"I'm fine," she insisted, but she was really, really dizzy. "Don't get all excited."

"Uh, Rin, you're bleeding," he said. " _Bad_."


	12. Chapter 12

12

* * *

Rinoa was admitted to the hospital immediately. A clipboard was pressed into Zell's hands, and he filled it out as best as he could, but he didn't know all the requested information. Months ago, Rinoa had given him temporary power of attorney, just in case something happened, but he never thought he'd need to use it. He struggled to fill out the form, hoped the information was correct, and turned them in at the desk.

One by one, he made phone calls as he paced the hall and waited for news. The first was to her father, who was in a meeting and couldn't be reached. He left a message with Caraway's secretary to call back immediately, then dialed Laguna.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Laguna promised, more subdued than usual. "Let me know if anything changes."

"Yeah, sure," Zell said. "Hey, by the way, have you been in touch with Ellone at all? I tried to get a hold of her a few days ago and she never called back."

"She's been busy," Laguna said. "On assignment. I gotta go. I'll see you as soon as I can."

Ellone was on assignment? Doing what? As far as Zell knew, she'd been on the White SeeD ship, doing what she normally did.

Zell shrugged it off, decided to message Selphie instead of call. He wasn't in the mood to hear her shrieking in his ear. Soon enough, she'd be sitting beside him, sobbing and being over-dramatic and annoying, and Zell was already on the verge of a freak out of his own. He didn't need Selphie to add to it.

He called Quistis next.

"I'm in town," she said. "I'm on my way now."

It had been a while since Zell had seen Quistis – not since he'd been released from duty. They'd exchanged a few phone calls and messages, but she'd been too busy and Zell had thrown himself into his new role as town grease monkey and repair guy.

Quistis arrived before Selphie and she looked tired. Older. As if responsibilities at Garden were sucking the life out of her. Zell had heard through the grapevine that Garden's struggles had only gotten worse since they'd dismissed their most elite operatives. Mission failures were higher than average, money was tight, enrollment was too high for the number of instructors, but they couldn't afford to hire more.

He hated to see it fall apart. Garden had been his second home, a place he owed most of his skills to.

"I'd hug you, but I'm kinda coated in grease," he greeted.

"I don't care," Quistis said and threw her arms around him for a quick but tight hug. When she released him, she asked, "How is she?"

"Dunno," he said. "Not a word."

Quistis sat in one of the plastic chairs set along the wall and motioned for Zell to join her. They made small talk to pass the time until Selphie arrived with Ella.

Ella, still dressed for dance class, hurled herself at Zell and scrambled into his lap. Her tutu bunched up against his chest, and she smelled like cupcakes. A second later, he saw why. Frosting was smeared on her chin and her fingers were sticky. That was probably Selphie. She had a bad habit of treating Ella to sweets because she liked them herself, even though Rinoa had specifically said not to do it.

"What's up, bud?" Zell asked as he wiped the frosting from her face. "How was school?"

Ella answered with a loud, heartbroken sob.

"You smell like car stuff," she bawled.

Zell laughed and hugged her tight. Big blue eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

"What are the tears for, kiddo?" Zell asked. "Because I smell like cars?"

"No. 'Cause I didn't want a brother," she cried. "And now he got hurt."

Zell smoothed her hair back from her face. Hyne, she looked so much like Squall. More and more, every day, Zell saw his lost friend in Ella, and it broke his heart. He wiped away her tears and fixed her unruly pony tail and tried to ignore the swell of paternal affection brewing in his chest.

That too, got stronger every day, and he couldn't help it. Somewhere in playing substitute dad, it had started to feel like the real thing.

"It's not your fault," he promised.

"But I wanted him to go away," she said. "I didn't want us to have him."

Zell glared at Selphie and wondered what she'd said to Ella. Selphie paused in her incessant chatter to Quistis to look guilty for a split second before she continued.

"It wasn't very nice to want him to go away," Zell said as he tucked strands of her hair behind her ears, "but it's not not your fault your mom fell. And if something happens and he doesn't come home, it isn't because you didn't want him to, kiddo. Wishing something to be true doesn't always make it true."

Hyne wasn't that the truth?

Ella leaned into his shoulder and pondered that for a while. When the air conditioner kicked on, she shivered and snuggled closer.

"You cold, bud?" he asked. "Where's your sweater?"

"At school," she said. "I forgot."

"We'll have to remember to get it tomorrow," Zell said. "Your mom will flip if you lose it."

"I know," Ella said. "Hey Uncle Zell? Are you going to be my dad now?"

That question was a fist to the gut.

And Zell didn't know how to answer. His feelings were complicated, and growing more so by the day. He wasn't in love. More like, in love with the idea of love, in love with the thought of family, and stepping into Squall's shoes had intensified his longing to have what they'd once had.

"Hey, Sef?" he asked. "Would you mind running by the house and getting Ella and me a change of clothes?"

Selphie frowned at him over Quistis' shoulder. "Why can't you go get them?"

"I have power of attorney," he said. "I can't leave, in case something happens."

"Fine," Selphie snapped. "Quistis, you're coming with me."

Selphie grabbed Quistis' hand and dragged her to her feet, leaving Zell and Ella alone in the hall.

"Uncle Zell," Ella said. "So are you? Gonna be my dad?"

"No, sweetie," he said. "Still just plain old Uncle Zell."

"What if mommy dies?" Big blue eyes, full of worry.

"If something happens to your mom, which it  _won't_ , you'll go live with Laguna in Esthar."

"But I don't want to."

"He lives in a Palace, remember? That's like a castle. You'd be like... The Princess of Esthar."

Ella considered that for a minute.

"Can't I stay with you?"

"Kiddo, your mom is gonna be fine," he swore and hoped it wasn't a lie. "She'll be fine."

The longer the doctor made him wait, the more worried Zell became. When the doctor finally did appear, Zell got up, set Ella on her feet and accepted her small hand when she reached for his.

"How is she, doc?"

"Are you the father?"

He'd written on Rinoa's admittance form that the father was deceased. Apparently, no one had read them.

"Uncle," he said. "How's she doing?"

"The fall caused a minor placental abruption, which is what caused the hemorrhage," the doctor said.

Zell just stared at the doctor. He had no idea what that meant.

"Layman here," Zell said. "Smaller words, man."

"The fall caused the placenta to pull away from the uterine wall," the doctor said.

"That sounds bad," Zell said. "It  _looked_  bad."

"If it had happened earlier, it would have been a much bigger concern because it could impact oxygen levels and nutrition and would have required premature delivery to save him," the doctor said, "but since she's already a week overdue, there shouldn't be any major complications, so long as we go ahead and induce labor."

In the movies, falls always caused a tragic miscarriage or brain damage or some other sad outcome. All Zell needed to know was whether or not they were going to be okay.

"So the baby didn't get hurt in the fall or anything?" he asked.

"I doubt he even felt it," the doctor said. "The womb is much more insulated than people think. And we don't expect he sustained any injuries. Mom on the other hand might have a few bruises, but I'm confident she'll make a full recovery."

Zell was so relieved, he almost hugged the doctor. Instead he lifted Ella up to his hip and hugged her.

"See?" he whispered. "Everybody's okay."

Ella laid her head against his shoulder and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Zell pulled it away and held it, knowing her sudden reversion into early childhood behaviors had a lot to do with her need to remain the baby of the family. He'd read that in one of Squall's rather large collection of parenting books.

"So, what happens now?"

"If all goes well, Mrs. Leonhart will give birth to a healthy baby boy in a few hours," the doctor said.

"Can we see her?" he asked and tightened his grip on Ella's hand.

"Once we have her prepped," the doctor said. "I'll send a nurse out when we've got her settled in."

Selphie returned with a change of clothes and a bag of snacks. She helped Ella change in the ladies room while Zell used the men's to clean up. He washed the grease from his cheeks and arms, then changed into the track suit Selphie had inexplicably chosen. On one hand, it had been a gift from his Ma, and comfort was important. On the other, it made him look like a sleazy Timberian drug lord. All he needed were a few gold chains and a big ugly watch to complete the look.

When he emerged, a nurse was there to take him and Ella into Rinoa's room. Pale faced but awake, Rinoa smiled dopily when they entered the room. Ella started to sob and dashed to the bedside, where she attempted to climb into bed with Rinoa before Zell could stop her. He caught her around the waist as she scaled the bed rail and lifted her back into his arms.

"Sorry, bud," he said as he sat down on a stool and settled Ella onto his lap. "Not a good idea."

"Stelly-Belly, why are you crying?" Rinoa asked.

"I was scared you got hurt and the baby wouldn't get born anymore," she sniffled.

"Oh, sweetie, we're okay," Rinoa promised. She reached out and smoothed a hand over Ella's cheek and brushed away her tears. "The doctor just needed to check us out."

"But he's still coming right?" she asked.

"Probably today," Rinoa said. "And he can't wait to see you."

"Decide on a name yet?" Zell asked. "You're sorta out of time."

"I know," she said. "Oh... owwwww."

Zell sat up, alarmed as Rinoa's face scrunched up and she shifted forward with one hand on her lower abdomen. This whole baby thing was fascinating, but it was also terrifying. The more Zell saw and read, the scarier it got.

"Do I need to get a doctor?" Zell asked.

"Not yet," she said, through gritted teeth. "It's not quite time yet."

"Ella, why don't you go back to your Aunt Selphie for a little while. Your mom and I need to talk," Zell said. "I think Selphie brought some coloring books for you."

"I'll draw the baby a picture for his new room," Ella said.

"I think he'll like that, bud," Zell said. He pressed a kiss to her temple and rolled toward the door to ensure she made her way back to Selphie before he returned to Rinoa. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I didn't think I fell that hard," she said.

"Well, you did," he said more sharply than he intended. "You gotta take better care of yourself, Rin."

"I know," she whispered.

"I'm not gonna lecture," he said. "I'm too relieved to lecture."

Rinoa cast her eyes from his face and took in his outfit. She struggled not to smile and failed.

"What are you wearing?" she asked. "You look like a Galbadian mob boss."

"My Ma bought it," he said. "Don't change the subject."

"Did you get in touch with my father?"

"Left a message. Hasn't called back," he said. "Laguna's on his way, though."

Rinoa's eyes went glassy and she settled back into the pillow. Zell didn't need to be told that she was thinking about Squall and missing him.

It should have been Squall sitting in Zell's place, and that wasn't fair. For more reasons than he could count. Zell considered himself a poor substitute, but he reached out anyway, slipped his hand into Rinoa's and settled in for the ride.

In the hours that followed, she nearly broke that hand twice.

Zell expected it to be like television, with screaming and cursing and panting and sweating, but it wasn't. Rinoa was surprisingly quiet through all of it, even when the contractions were at their strongest, the sounds she made were more like close lipped sobs and thin whines than the howls of man-hating rage portrayed on TV.

"Doing good, Rin," he promised between contractions. "Almost there."

"I just want him out," she said breathlessly.

Zell couldn't imagine what any of this was like. He'd read a few books that described the process, and during his cadet days, they'd all been forced to watch a birthing video that left them more or less traumatized afterward, but that did not compare to actually being there. It was amazing and horrifying and he was weirdly proud of Rinoa for toughing it out like she was.

He didn't watch the actual birth. That long ago video was plenty, and it would be way too weird. Instead, he stayed beside Rinoa, acting the part of the cheerleader and supportive friend as the doctor shouted instructions at her.

Ari Gage Leonhart was born ten minutes before midnight.

Zell thought the name fit. Ari, ancient Centran word for lion, and Gage because Ella picked it and because it sounded like something related to Squall's gunblade.

In the controlled chaos that followed Ari's birth, Zell was passed forms to sign while the doctors tended to mother and son. He paid little attention to what he signed, sparing them only a glance to confirm what they were and handed them back.

To his surprise, a short time the nurse placed the tiny bundle in his arms while Rinoa dozed.

"Congratulations, daddy," the nurse said.

Zell didn't bother to correct her. Something weird was going on in his chest. A knot in his throat and short of breath, Zell just nodded and stared at Ari's scrunched, red little face.

The boy was so small, and so vocal for someone just minutes old. Thin but angry cries issued from his mouth until Zell cradled him closer, and for lack of any better ideas, started to hum a lullaby Matron used to sing.

"Hey, little dude," Zell murmured once Ari settled down. "It's about time you showed up."

* * *

Seifer woke with a start from a dream about murdering his wife. Except, he didn't have a wife, and if he ever walked that plank, divorce seemed a more rational choice for separation than murder. He was no stranger to savage killing, but the dream was most notable for its brutality.

As he sat up to blink it away, he could still feel the knife in his hand, the way the blade sliced its way through skin and bone, could still hear the sound of her screams, her pleas for mercy.

" _Please, Squall, stop!"_

Not his wife.  _Squall's._

"Holy mother of Hyne," he murmured and leaned over to rouse Ellone.

She lay slumped against the couch cushions, instead in the train car bunk where she belonged, her eyes moving rapidly behind closed lids. One fist in her lap clenched and unclenched as a thin whine escaped her lips.

"Noooooo, ohgod I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Rin wake up, please wake up, I didn't mean it!" she cried as her fist made a stabbing motion against the fabric of the couch. "Please wake up!"

Chilled, Seifer shook her harder.

"El, come on," he said. "Don't do this to me again."

When the seizure hit, he was ready for it. He slipped from his seat and into the space next to her, wrapped his arms around her and held on. Violent tremors passed through her and her eyes stared emptily up at the ceiling.

It seemed like forever before the tension in her muscles released. She slumped against him, shivering and blinked her way back to the present. Her hands lifted to her face and came away bloody.

Seifer caught one of her wrists and turned it toward him to inspect the damage. He saw no visible injury, just smears of blood her delicate hands. Broken, abraded skin reddened the knuckles of her left hand, but otherwise, she appeared unharmed.

"Tell me that didn't really happen."

She shook her head and stared at her bloody palms.

"It's getting worse," she said. "It felt real, didn't it?"

Seifer nodded and leaned down to reach for his bag. He grabbed the first thing he found and cleaned the blood from her palms.

"If it wasn't real, whose blood is this?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe it's not real either."

Seifer was getting sick of all the cryptic bullshit. He was getting sick of chasing lead after lead, only to find themselves at a dead end again. His attempt to draw Accountant out and arrange a meeting hadn't worked out. It was likely the Shumi had recognized him at Garden and put two and two together. There were no leads from Laguna's search of marine vessels, nothing even close to follow up on. Cid himself was all they had left, and that was a last resort.

At this point, the only thing that kept Seifer from giving up was Ellone's insistence that Squall was still alive. Even that, Seifer was beginning to question as dead end after dead end cropped up. The world was a big place, but it was pretty hard to hide for so long without being seen. How Thalia evaded anyone's notice could only be explained by her ability to make people see something else.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Something Thalia showed Squall," Ellone said as she sat up. "Something she wanted me to see."

"She invited you in this time?"

"Not exactly."

Seifer shuddered as it dawned on him what he'd dream-witnessed and he pushed to his feet, turned his back on Ellone and went to the drink cart by the door to pour her a glass of water.

He wondered how Ellone lived with all the things she saw. Some people called it a gift, but after living with her for eight months, Seifer knew it was no gift. It haunted her. More than she ever let on.

"But she knew you were there," Seifer said.

"She did," Ellone said. "I didn't mean to take you with me. Sometimes, I can't help it."

Seifer turned around. Her head was in her hands, her posture defeated. He joined her on the couch, offered the water and waited while so took a sip and collected herself.

"He's like a toy to her," she said. "I think... She's kept him this long because no matter what she does, she can't seem to completely break him."

Seifer was a little too familiar with that feeling. An unexpected chill passed through him and he grabbed hold of her hand. Her fingers were icy cold in his grip.

"I'm worried about what happens if he does break," she said.

Seifer knew what would happen. He knew what it was like to have his mind twisted and bent to the point where the fantasy felt more real than the reality. It had been hard to come back from that, but it wasn't impossible.

"We'll deal with that if it happens," Seifer said. "So long as we get him home alive."

Ellone nodded, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Seifer lifted it away and pressed both her hands between his. Hyne, her hands were cold.

"How do you deal with this, El?" he asked. "The shit you see?"

She blinked, pulled her hands away and got up as Seifer settled back against the couch cushions.

"I try not to get into people's heads at all," she said. "I don't like seeing the things they hide. I don't want to know their secrets or knowing what they're afraid of. It's too personal."

"That why you stayed out of mine?"

She turned back to him and looked him straight in the eye.

"I don't need to get in your head to know what happened," she said. "Or what you're afraid of."

"I'm not afraid of anything," he said.

"Everyone's afraid of something," she said. "You're not an exception."

She said it like she knew all his major malfunctions. He sat forward, on defense and locked eyes with her.

"Enlighten me."

"You want to hear them all, or should I give you a synopsis?"

"That better be a joke."

The corner of Ellone's mouth twitched upward but she didn't smile.

"You're afraid of yourself."

If she'd stripped naked in the middle of the room, Seifer would have been less surprised than he was now. He blinked at her, floored by how close her assessment was and he had no response or defense against it.

"There's more," she said. "If you want to hear it."

Seifer didn't. He shook his head, sat back and looked out the window because he couldn't look her in the eye any longer.

"Not the answer you were expecting?" she mused and returned to her place on the couch. "You shouldn't ask questions that you don't want the answer to. But, that's exactly what it's like, being able to do what I do. Even when it's voluntary, I don't always want to know the answers."

Seifer pondered that. How frustrating it must have been, to try to sleep and be drawn in to someone's most private and personal moments. More than that, it was disconcerting that she'd put her finger on the one thing he feared most without getting inside his head.

Her hand slid over his, warmer now, and gripped it tight.

"For what it's worth, I understand," she said. "Being afraid of what you could be, what you are."

"How could you?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Her smile was ironic.

"You don't think I've been tempted to use my power for evil instead of good? Imagine, finding out something that you can use against someone for your own gain," she said. "It would be really, really easy to abuse it. And I've thought about it, more than once."

So, Ellone had a dark side of her own. And here Seifer thought she was too pure for this world, immune to the evil that blackened the hearts of men. It was comforting. He wasn't the only one that struggled with their inner bad seed, though he didn't believe Ellone would ever willingly succumb to hers. She had too many morals. She was too kind hearted to go down that path.

"I'm thinking that would be really useful for extortion purposes," he mused. "You could get really rich. Just imagine all the dirt you could get on politicians."

"There have been times when extortion would have been the least I could have done," she said. "Once or twice... I could have ruined someone's life, if I wanted to."

"Not such a nice girl, are you," Seifer said softly. "Well, how about that?"

She rolled her eyes at his suggestive tone and shoved his shoulder.

"Has anyone ever told you you're terrible at flirting?"

"Who said I was flirting?"

"I'm immune Almasy, so don't bother."

To Seifer, it sounded like a challenge. Like she was daring him to try harder. That was interesting.

So far, whatever flirting he might have done was just a way to get under her skin and rile her up, for fun. He couldn't deny she was attractive in a cute sort of way. Not the jaw-dropping kind of beauty that usually drew his eye, but she was growing on him, in spite of her eerily accurate assessment of his psyche and even though she creeped him out a little too often.

Now was not the time to ponder it. They would arrive in Timber soon. From there, they'd take a charter to the orphanage, Cid's last known location.

"Just so you know," Seifer said, changing the subject. "If Kramer gives me a hard time, I'm not holding back. I'll do what I have to."

"I hope you don't have to," she said. "But, he created this mess. He should answer for it."

* * *

Ari's first week home was rough for everyone. Rinoa worried he didn't sleep enough, and even with Zell pitching in to alternate shifts, he still woke every two hours and by the time the week ended, she was so tired, stupid little things made her cry, for no reason. A sentimental commercial. Ella, reading Ari a story in fits and starts as she sounded out the words. Forgetting to buy bananas for Ella's lunch. Getting up to find Zell had already swooped in to feed him. Everything was reason to get emotional.

Ella adjusted to the idea of being a big sister, but she too suffered from lack of sleep and it made her cranky and short tempered. That aside, after the first day or two, she chattered at Ari constantly. She sang her favorite songs and promised to be a good sister and asked Rinoa how long it would be before he was big enough to play with her.

Her father visited two days after Ari was born. He showed up without notice, barely looked at Ari and tried to offer her unwanted advice before she shut him down and told him he could go home if that was all he wanted to discuss. Ella stared at him like he was a stranger. His gruffness scared her, and she refused to go with him when he suggested a walk to the ice cream stand on the corner.

"Is that man living with you?" he said of Zell.

"Yes," she said. "Not that it's your business."

"I could understand your girlfriend coming to stay for a while," he said, "but you do understand how improper it is to have a man you're not married to under your roof."

"His name is Zell, and he's my friend," she said. "And guess what? I don't care what's proper and what isn't. So unless you plan to take time off work and actually help me instead of telling me what to do, then I suggest you drop it."

Her father's dark eyes narrowed and he shook his head in disappointment.

"I am helping you," he said. "You're just not hearing me."

"You want to help? Change a diaper," she said and slammed a frying pan down on the stove. "Otherwise, go back to Deling City."

He'd left shortly after that. Once he'd gone, Rinoa sat down in the middle of the kitchen and cried.

Her mood brightened when Laguna arrived later that day with flowers, piles of gifts and a bottle of her favorite Estharin wine. To her surprise, Ellone didn't come with him and he offered a vague explanation about why. Rinoa already knew Ellone had been tough to reach, but she would have thought Ellone would be excited enough to meet Ari that she would come.

Ari took to Laguna right away. He was captivated by the sound of Laguna's voice and fell quiet whenever Laguna spoke. And Laguna was equally enthralled by his grandson. Like Squall, he didn't want to put the boy down.

"He's beautiful, Rin," Laguna said. "Squall would be proud."

He meant well, but it hurt.

At least he didn't assume the worst or criticize her for how she picked up the pieces.

Far too soon for Rinoa's liking, Laguna had to go back to Esthar. He left with a promise to return soon, and to pass along her message to Ellone. When he was gone, Rinoa wished he was already back. His good humor and understanding of grief was a comfort. He could relate to the part of her that missed Squall desperately and he didn't judge her for not being able to move on.

Later in the week, she received three more e-mails with photos of Squall. Every one of them tore her to shreds. He was too thin, his eyes too dull, with collections of bruises and cuts like abstract paintings on his skin. Each one came from a different address, and each of them, according to Zell was sent through an untraceable re-mailer. Attempts to message back were returned undeliverable.

Why someone would torment her like this, she didn't know, but she wanted it to stop. It was hard enough to get on with her life without the reminder of how Squall had suffered. He'd spent the last weeks of his life in pain, waiting for someone to save him, and no one had. She wished she had gone with Quistis. If she had, maybe he would have been found alive, rather than sent back to her in a box.

The dates stamped in the corner of the last two photos didn't make sense. If they were to be believed, one was from January, the other from April. Rinoa couldn't allow herself to believe it was anything more than some sick game. It was too painful to hold onto hope he was alive. Even if her heart told her he wasn't really gone, the photos didn't make it true.

She went back to work three days after Ari was born, even though everyone told her to take it easy. No one but Laguna understood she needed to work to keep her from slipping back into that overwhelming sadness she felt when she was alone.

When she caught Chastity slipping a twenty-gil bill from the cash drawer into her pocket, Rinoa fired her on the spot. Down a person, Rinoa put the word out she needed a part-time cashier and wound up hiring a young woman in her twenties named Melane. Melane had recently moved from Dollet to start over after an ugly divorce. She was sweet, smart, knew her books, and had a head full of flaming red hair. Rinoa could tell right away, she was going to work out fine, especially after she chased Rascal out of the store, brandishing a copy of the Book of Hyne as a weapon.

During the second week, after too many nights with too little sleep, Zell dragged the bassinet into Rinoa's rooms, plopped a freshly diapered Ari into it and dropped onto the bed beside Rinoa with a groan.

"I'm so tired," he sighed. "Little dude doesn't sleep."

Rinoa started to cry. She didn't even know why this time. Just that she was too tired to do anything else.

"Aww, Rin," he sighed. "Don't. Please don't cry."

"I didn't mean to," she bawled. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Zell laughed, flipped onto his side and settled into the pillow.

_Squall's pillow._

"You're just tired," he said. "I kinda wanna cry too."

Rinoa almost shoved him off the bed. It seemed so  _wrong_. Zell meant nothing by it, and it probably hadn't even occurred to him that it would upset her, but it did. It no longer smelled like Squall, and now it would smell like Zell's cologne instead.

_Get over it, Rin. It's not Squall's side of the bed anymore._

She took a few deep breaths and squeezed her eyes shut to cut off the water works. It wasn't a big deal, and there was no use crying about it. It was just a pillow and Squall would never sleep there again.

"I propose we build a pillow fence," Zell said tiredly as he patted the space between them. "Because I don't think I can handle running down the hall again. Little dude's wearing me out."

It would be nice not to have to get up and trudge down the hallway. Rinoa agreed and tossed a heap of decorative pillows on the bed. She didn't think it was necessary to make a barricade. She trusted Zell to keep his hands to himself, but she wasn't going to disagree with it either.

"I have mad respect for every parent in the world right now," Zell said as he settled back down. "This is tough."

"Still wanna settle down?" she asked. "Now that you know what it's really like?"

He laughed softly.

"Kinda weird," he said, "but... Yeah."

"You're going to be a great dad when it's your turn," Rinoa promised.

It as true. He was great with Ella, and he didn't let her get too out of line, the way Selphie did. He'd spent hours outside, patiently teaching Ella to ride her bike. He let her put barrettes in his bangs and did voices for all her stuffed animals and made her clean up her toys when she was done with them. And he did it all without question, without being asked, and it was adorable and hilarious and Rinoa was so, so grateful he was there.

"You better not be about to suggest I hook up with Selphie again," he said. The bed shifted as he bundled himself in the blanket. "'Cause that's not gonna happen."

Rinoa laughed softly. "It was worth a shot."

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm not going to become whatever the guy version of a spinster is or start collecting cats and ratty bathrobes."

Exhaustion made the statement funnier than it was. Rinoa started to giggle and couldn't stop. Five minutes ago, she'd been sobbing, and now a sort of weary hysteria settled in as tears of laughter leaked from her eyes. A mental picture of a scruffy, overweight Zell in a ratty yellow bathrobe with cats crawling all over him only made it worse.

"It wasn't that funny, Rin," Zell said.

"Now I know what to get you for your birthday next year," she said through her giggles.

"A girlfriend?" he asked. "'Cause that would be nice."

Rinoa sobered and propped herself up on her elbows to look over the pillow fence at her friend.

"Zell, if all this -" she gestured around her, "is holding you back, please don't think you have to stay. You're not responsible for me, so if you need to go and do whatever, please don't let me stop you."

"It's cool, Rin," he said. "I don't mind."

"But -"

"Just think of it this way," he said. "When I'm married and my kids are driving me nuts, you can pay me back by babysitting or something."

"Deal," she said. "But I owe you more than that."

"You don't owe me anything," he said. "I'm here 'cause I wanna be. But if I ever start driving you nuts, feel free to throw me out. I still got a room at Ma's."

Rinoa settled back down and closed her eyes.

"We should invite her for dinner," she murmured. "We'll barbecue or something."

"I think she'd like that," Zell said. "And if we barbecue, she can't commandeer the kitchen."

Like Zell, Ma liked to feed and take care of people. She was a sweet but tough woman, and Ella loved her. Rinoa loved her.

In the bassinet, Ari stirred, gave a cry of complaint and Rinoa groaned into her pillow. She sat up slowly, but Zell was already on his feet. He lifted the baby into his arms and returned to the bed and sat propped up against the headboard.

"What's the matter, little dude?" he asked. "Are we keeping you awake?"

He let Ari settle against his shoulder and stroked the boy's back to soothe him. Ari's tiny hand wrapped around Zell's thumb and he made soft little grunting sounds against Zell's chest. Rinoa's tears came back with a vengeance, this time because it was too sweet for words. Zell deserved a family of his own and she couldn't shake the feeling she was holding him back.

"I think he's going to look like you," Zell said.

"Too soon to tell," Rinoa said. "But he's already got my eyes, I think. They're getting darker."

She sat up lifted the pillow between them and leaned her head against Zell's shoulder. She closed her eyes as his arm came up around her waist.

Just a second, she pretended he was Squall.

* * *

The charter docked just south of the lighthouse at the Cape of Good Hope under a dim sky that promised rain. Ellone looked at the familiar landscape with a mixture of sadness and nostalgia. Winhill aside, some of her happiest days had been spent here. Even in her childhood grief, there was something about this place that represented some of the best things childhood had to offer.

Though she'd lost a year of that childhood, and she'd been forced to grow up too fast because of it, she had fond memories of the days spent in Edea's care. The Cape was quiet, but the house was not. It had been lively and full of laughter and fun.

She remembered how determined Seifer was as a young child, how his mouth would twist in concentration as he tried to climb things and how frustrated he would get when whatever mission he was on didn't work out to his liking. More than one toy had gone flying across the room when it failed to entertain him. He'd been ornery and determined and completely unafraid of the world around him.

He was the kid that would take off his diaper and run naked through the house because it made Edea scream, and he would laugh as she chased him down, his chubby cheeks pink with delight. He'd disliked clothes for a time, and more than once had been discovered in some corner without a stitch on, happily dismantling something or stalking a spider as it crawled up the wall.

Thank Hyne he'd outgrown his love of nudity, but she had a feeling he still had no shame. He might believe himself a hawk but in reality, he was a peacock – beautiful, proud, and aggressive.

As opinionated and troublesome as he was as a boy, he was also quick to laugh and sweet when he wanted to be. She remembered the way he'd crash into her and throw his arms around her neck, laughing as he forced his way into her lap, often forcing Squall out of it.

He had to be the center of everything, and when he wasn't, he got upset. In a house full of kids, it was hard for Edea to give them all the attention they needed, and Seifer preferred attention of the undivided kind.

Funny, how he hadn't changed so much. He was still showy, a little dramatic and craved all the attention. But he was a little broken, too. Not that Ellone could fault him for that. Ellone didn't know anyone who wasn't a little fractured. It was just that Seifer was more damaged than most, even if he hid it well. She'd heard him cry out in his sleep, plagued by dreams he wouldn't talk about.

"El?" Seifer called over his shoulder. "You coming?"

Ellone looked up to see she'd stopped walking near the end of the dock to stare into space.

"You in someone's head or what?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Just got lost in thought for a minute."

Seifer looked up at the lighthouse and nodded, then broke into a big, toothy grin.

"Yeah," he agreed. "A lot of memories here."

"Good ones, I hope?"

He turned in a slow circle, taking in the view of the beach and the plains.

"Some of the best," he said.

They walked the overgrown path and carefully navigated the crumbling steps to the beach. Seifer was keyed up, eager to confront Cid. In spite of that, his mood was light for a change. Maybe it was just being off the charter, or the memories of simpler times. Either way, he was easier to deal with, and easier to like.

Ellone wasn't sure about his plan, but she hoped it would give them the boost they needed. It was hard not to lose hope when every direction they turned, they found themselves at a dead end.

The steps up to the orphanage were crumbling too. Near the top, Seifer slid two feet and clipped his chin on the rough stone. When he stood, he was bleeding a little.

"Watch your step," Ellone said.

"Now you tell me."

He rubbed this thumb and forefinger together and Ellone was surprised to see a small blue flame leap from his fingertip. Ellone watched in fascination as he pressed it to his wound. When he lifted it away, it was healed, leaving behind only a thin pinkish line and a smear of blood.

"Wow," she murmured.

His vulnerability was unexpected. He feared her judgment. As if she had any right.

"I didn't know you could do that," she said. "I guess now I know who set the old washing machine on fire back in the day."

Seifer stared at her, then broke into a grin.

"Yeah, that was me."

"You blamed Zell."

"What can I say? Easy target."

"Poor Zell."

"He had it coming," Seifer said. "Little tattle-tale."

Seifer was more cautious the rest of the way up. At the top, they surveyed the sorry state the place was in. The back wall had crumbled completely and part of the roof had caved in. Ellone knew it was in bad shape, but it was sad to see it falling apart. A few more years, and it would be a pile of stone and rotting wood.

"Got your blades ready?" Seifer asked.

"Yes, but I doubt I'm going to need them. It's  _Cid._ It's not like he's going to start shooting arrows at us or chase us down with a sword. _"_

"First rule of combat, always be prepared," he said. He held up a finger. "Second rule, cover your ass. Third rule, never underestimate your opponent."

"Yes, drill sergeant, sir," Ellone replied and gave a sloppy salute.

"The second you don't take it seriously," Seifer said as he stepped inside the crumbling structure, "someone is going to hand you your ass on a desert tray. Just remember that."

"It's so cute when you talk military to me," she said.

"Now who's flirting?" he replied. He flashed a smile over his shoulder. "As much as I'm enjoying your attempt to come onto me, now isn't the time."

"Oh, get over yourself," she said. "I do have standards."

"Yeah? I bet the White SeeD ship is just a hotbed of quality prospects for romantic partners."

It wasn't, but Ellone smiled haughtily and pushed past him into the moldering room. The beds were still there, the mattresses stained and torn and mildewed. She walked over to the bed were she used to sleep and ran her hand over the warped wooden footboard. The bed beside hers had belonged to Squall.

When she turned around, Seifer waited, his hands in his pockets, watching her.

"Ever been in love, El?" he asked.

It was a strange question to ask now. An especially strange question for Seifer to ask.

"Have you?" she countered.

"I came close once," he said. "A long time ago."

"Why do you ask?" she wondered as she drifted to the window with the view of the lighthouse.

"Just curious," he said. "Your failure to answer tells me no."

"Not a lot of opportunities when you've spent most of your life in hiding," she said. She ran her hand over the faded curtain. It was dry rotted and pieces came away in her hand. "And, it isn't always easy for people to understand me. It scares them."

"Yeah," he said, too quiet. "I know."

When she turned around, his eyes were on the floor and he poked at a loose stone on the floor with the toe of his boot. It was too humble a posture for him. Something was up, but Ellone couldn't figure out what. Maybe, it was just being here, where there were too many memories.

"Let's go do this," she said. "He was staying in the master bedroom."

She followed Seifer through the kitchen, smiled at the outdated and rusted stove, where Edea had taught her to bake, and continued into the front hall. The door to the bedroom was shut.

Seifer's hand went to Hyperion's grip as Ellone knocked lightly on the door.

"Cid?" she called. "It's Ellone. Are you in there?"

There was no answer. Ellone pressed an ear to the door and listened. She heard nothing, drew back and shook her head at Seifer.

"He's gotta be in there," Seifer said. "You saw him."

"Maybe he left," she said.

Seifer pounded on the door.

"Kramer, open the damn door!"

Nothing.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open. At first, all Ellone saw was white and dark red, the far wall painted in polka dots. Beside her, Seifer sucked in a sharp breath and pushed her back away from the door, shaking his head wordlessly, eyes wide with alarm.

"What?"

"He -" Seifer began and then shook his head again.

Ellone tried to push her way past him, but his hands wrapped tight around her forearms and backed her further down the hall, pressed her back against the stones and bowed his forehead into her hair.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

Seifer's next words were spoken in a breathless whisper.

"He shot himself, Elle. He's dead."

* * *

Seifer stood in Cid's bedroom, staring at the mess he'd left behind. Drying blood splattered the walls, and the sheets were awash with it. He kept his eyes averted from what remained of Cid's head and scanned the room for signs of an intruder, just in case things were not what they seemed.

The gun was still clenched in Cid's fist, his glasses folded neatly on a dry-rotted end table. Next to them was a sheet of yellowed stationery with two words scrawled in Cid's loopy script.

_Forgive me._

Seifer wiped a hand over his face, messaged Laguna and turned away from the body. He wanted to call the man a coward for taking this route, but he knew from experience, suicide took more courage and commitment than people thought. It was easy to stick a gun in your mouth, but hard to make yourself pull the trigger.

If it was, Seifer would be lying in some unremarkable grave somewhere in Centra. Probably beneath a headstone so defaced by haters, his name was no longer legible.

"Elle, can you connect with Edea?"

In the doorway, Ellone was pale and silent, but she nodded and drifted into the hall, her wrap pulled tight around her shoulders. She didn't need to be in here, didn't need to see it. There were enough nightmares in her head.

Seifer returned his attention to the room and slowly scanned its contents. Besides the rotted and rusting furniture, there wasn't much to see, just a small duffel bag and a lap top left on the dresser, the screen open but powered off. He turned it on and waited while it booted up and rooted through the bag to see if there was anything of interest.

He found an assortment of clothing, and an account ledger and a booklet of music disks. He flipped through them, but nothing stood out as helpful. The account ledger was gibberish to him but he kept it.

Cid's lap top was not password protected and had a satellite link. He scrolled through recently visited files one at a time until he found a folder of photos. When he opened it, he cursed to himself as dozens of thumbnails of Squall in the most sorry state of his life filled the screen. He clicked on one and regretted it. Even in the photo's poor light, he could count every one of Squall's ribs.

Sickened, he closed the file and looked through Cid's internet search history. It only went back two weeks, and there wasn't much. The only thing that stood out was a search on a string of bank robberies in Galbadia, a weather forecast site and an import/export company based in Dollet called TBI.

Thalia Blackehart Industries, maybe?

If she could afford to lend out millions and potentially had her own company, that money had to come from somewhere.

How perfect her ability would be for large scale theft, bank robbery. No one would be able to identify the suspect. If she wanted people to see a team of G-Army soldiers wearing unicorn helmets, she could. Whether knowingly or not, Cid had left a trail of bread crumbs to follow, and as pissed as Seifer was that the man had blown his mind out rather than own up to his fuck up, he was glad for something to follow up on.

Seifer opened e-mail and messaged himself the link to the bank robbery story from Cid's account so he could read it over later, then scrolled through Cid's inbox, then his outbox to see if there was anything else of use.

"What the hell?" he murmured as he saw the last three messages in the outbox had been sent to Rinoa's e-mail, rhleonhart at balambmail. "Cid, what the hell did you do?"

He opened the first, saw no text but the subject line, SQUALL, and an attachment. He suspected he knew what Cid had sent her and his gut clenched at the thought of Rinoa having to look at those photos.

Any hope of something else was lost when he clicked the attachment and an image of a dead-eyed and battered Squall filled the screen. The tip of his pinky finger was clearly missing and long healed.

The date embedded in the corner was from April.

"Why?" he demanded and turned back to the man on the bed. "Why would you do that to her?"

Cid, of course, didn't answer.


	13. Chapter 13

13

* * *

Time passed almost too quickly. Before Rinoa knew it, Squall had been gone a year. On the anniversary of his funeral, she found herself alone beside his grave in the SeeD cemetery, his necklace clenched in her fist. A brisk wind whipped her hair around her head and tugged the skirt of her sun dress around her legs as she sank to the ground to stare at the headstone with his name etched into it.

The SeeD cemetery was less manicured than Rinoa remembered. The grass grew tall beyond the path and debris collected along the iron gate to the east. With Balamb Garden no longer in operation, maintenance on the grounds was suspended and it showed. She cleared away handfuls of grass grown up against Squall's headstone and cast it aside with a heavy heart.

It was the first time could bring herself to visit, and she was only there because she didn't know how else to acknowledge the loss.

She might as well have gone to the beach. Being here wasn't any comfort, and though his body lay in the ground below, he wasn't really here. Wherever he was, it wasn't here.

"You once made me promise I wouldn't leave you," she said to the headstone. "You didn't keep your end of the bargain."

The breeze rustled the tall grass at the edges of the grave and a paper cup tumbled past to lodge itself against a nearby headstone.

"I'm so mad at you for leaving me," she said, "and I miss you so much."

Was there any point in being here? She was just torturing herself, talking to someone who couldn't hear her, but she couldn't just sit there and say nothing.

"Ella misses you," she said. "You'd be so proud of her, Squall. She's gotten so tall, and she's so smart. Zell's teaching her karate." Rinoa paused to laugh at the Ella's lack of coordination. "She didn't inherit your grace, but she's got your determination. Doesn't give up for anything."

The breeze blew her hair into her face, and she untangled it and tucked as much of it behind her ears as she could.

"And Ari," she said. "He got my dad's curls, if you can believe it, but I think he looks a little like your dad. I wish you'd gotten the chance to meet him. He's so sweet, and he's quiet like you."

Tears spilled down her cheeks, fogged her sunglasses and she wiped them away.

"I wish I could say I'm doing okay without you," she whispered, "but the truth is... I'm struggling. You left this big hole right in the middle of me." Her voice broke and she closed he eyes, squeezed the tears from them and took the sunglasses off. "I'm not like you. I can't do it all on my own. I've never been helpless, but... God, Squall. Why? Why did you have to leave me?"

Rinoa thought coming here would bring some kind of closure, but it didn't. For several minutes, she sat there crying quietly, bitterly. There was nothing else to say. She was tired of being heartbroken, tired of missing him, tired of waking up thinking he was still alive, only to confront the empty side of the bed and be forced to remember he wasn't ever coming home.

"I came to say goodbye," she said. "For real this time. I love you, but... you're not here anymore."

She slid the platinum wedding band off her finger and looked at it in the sunlight, at the way the etching inside gleamed.

 _I Promise_.

As she stood, she unclasped her necklace and slid the ring onto it. When she got home, she would put it away in the jewelry box alongside his.

She turned away from the grave and swore she would never come back. Cemeteries were for the living, but there was no comfort to be found in them. With once last glance over her shoulder, Rinoa closed the gate behind her and walked the short path back to her car.

_Goodbye Squall._

* * *

Zell's Ma passed away in December. He took it hard, and it was Rinoa's turn to pitch in and lend a hand. She helped make the arrangements, called the florist and the caterer for the reception and got Zell good and drunk after the funeral. In the weeks that followed, she helped him pack and sort his Ma's things, and let him cry on her shoulder when it became too overwhelming.

And still, as Ultimecia once said, time didn't wait. It moved forward relentlessly, but the old proverb that time would heal her wounds proved untrue. She still missed Squall deeply, though she stopped waiting for him to come home and no longer expected him to be there when she woke. Her melancholy never truly lifted, her longing never stopped.

Rinoa, Zell and Selphie built a weird little family that looked out for each other, laughed, played, and got on each other's nerves. Selphie rented an apartment two blocks away so she could be closer and did odd jobs and worked as a courier when she wasn't encouraging Ella's more reckless tendencies. Zell turned the garage around and work was steady. Sometimes, he was busy late into the evening and occasionally brought smaller jobs home with him to work on.

Rinoa put all the pictures of Squall away and packed up his leather jacket. Every now and then, she took it out of its box and held it in her arms and let herself be drawn in by the lingering scent of gunpowder and oil. After all these years, the fur collar remained soft and unmarred by all the battles it had seen. The same could not be said for the leather. Scars from blades and wear told of its history and the man who once wore it.

Eventually, she stopped. There was no sense in holding on to what was lost.

They celebrated Ella's seventh birthday with a trip to a newly opened theme park in Esthar, courtesy of Laguna. They spent the day going from ride to ride as Laguna indulged Ella's every whim. He "won" her a giant stuffed Moomba by paying off the booth attendant and filled her belly full of cotton candy, sugary drinks and hot dogs.

Selphie tagged along like she was Laguna's shadow while Zell and Rinoa hung back and watched Ella enjoy her day.

"She's getting so big," Zell observed as Ella hung from Laguna's arm.

"Scary how fast they grow up," Rinoa said and glanced down at Ari in his stroller.

At nine months old, he was an active but quiet kid and exceptionally observant for his age. He watched the world around him with serious, dark eyes that were too old for his face. Rinoa saw both Squall and Laguna in her son, and little of herself except for his eyes.

"Little dude, you gotta stop growing, too," Zell said. "Your Uncle Zell can't keep up."

"In no time, he'll be taller than you," Rinoa said.

"Hey!" Zell cried and elbowed her. "Low blow."

"Pun intended?"

"You're one to talk, shorty."

"I'm petite, thank you."

"Petite is another word for short."

"You are not petite by any stretch of the imagination," Rinoa said.

Zell grinned and leaned down over Ari, who babbled happily at his favorite uncle.

"Tell your mommy she's a mean, mean, meanie."

"Mamamamamaa," Ari agreed.

"See?" Zell said with a smirk. "Little dude says so."

"He clearly said Mom," Rinoa said.

The good-natured teasing continued the rest of the day, and by the time they returned to the Palace, Rinoa was worn out, Ella was sound asleep on the couch and Laguna sported a funny sunglasses-shaped sunburn that Rinoa couldn't help but laugh at.

"Thanks for doing this, Laguna," she said as she put Ari to bed. "Ella had a great time."

"What about you?"

"I had fun too," she said.

"Good. This was as much for you as it was her," he said. "So, can I interest you in a glass of juice and a chat?"

"Sure," she said.

They sat in the Palace kitchen, Laguna with his glass of grape juice, Rinoa with a glass of wine and talked about the kids, about what Laguna was up to, and the general state of affairs in Esthar, but he never once mentioned Ellone. It was Rinoa that finally brought her up.

"She calls every now and then, but she doesn't have much to say," Rinoa said. "Is something going on?"

"I have her helping Seifer with something," Laguna said. "Top secret stuff."

"Memory stuff?"

"Memory stuff," Laguna confirmed.

That explained a lot, but Rinoa missed their chats.

"I can't imagine the two of them working together," Rinoa said. "Or actually getting along."

"Actually, they're two peas in a pot," Laguna said with a smile. "I think there might even be a little romance brewing."

That was a surprise. Seifer had his good points, but he could also be grating, obnoxious and overbearing. She supposed she could see it – Ellone was feisty in her own way and Seifer loved a challenge, but it was hard to picture the two of them romantically involved.

"How do you feel about that?" Rinoa wondered.

"Weird," Laguna said. "I worry, but Elle doesn't put up with his crap, so maybe... I just want them to be happy. Seifer's become like a son to me and I've watched him grow up a lot over the years. I'd like to think they'd be good for one another. As strange as that sounds."

It didn't sound strange at all, but his easy acceptance of the idea was a surprise. If Squall were alive, Rinoa doubted he'd be so open to it.

"Soooo," Laguna said. "Speaking of romance, what's this I see stewing between you and Zell?"

Rinoa blinked at him in surprise. There was no romance to speak of, though from time to time Rinoa couldn't help but wonder what it was that kept Zell from leaving, and she pretended not to see the lingering looks when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

"He seems pretty taken with you and the kids," Laguna said.

"We're just friends," Rinoa said. "Really close friends."

"Have you considered dating yet?" Laguna asked. "Take it from me, being alone is no way to live."

"It's not like that," Rinoa said.

"Are you sure it isn't like that for him?" Laguna asked. "Because if I didn't know better -"

"It isn't," Rinoa lied. "Really."

Laguna was skeptical.

"Well, you could do worse," Laguna said. "Zell's a nice kid. He seems to really care about you."

"Because we're friends and we've been through a lot together," she said. "Kinda like you and Kiros and Ward."

He seemed to accept that answer and patted her hand.

"Whenever you're ready to move on, Rin," Laguna said. "I'll support you. Just make sure to pick someone who treats you right and loves the kids. That's all I ask."

"I'm nowhere close to moving on," she said.

But it  _was_  complicated.

Even if there wasn't much of a physical attraction on Rinoa's part, there was definitely an emotional connection. Zell was the constant in her life, an anchor that kept her from floating away when she was overwhelmed. There was something there, and her feelings went beyond mere friendship, but there wasn't a solid definition for what it was. She couldn't name it, and certainly couldn't explain it if she tried.

Ari turned one in May. They celebrated on a small scale with just a handful of friends and a cake with too much frosting. It didn't seem possible that a full year passed since he'd come into the world. Selphie took dozens of pictures as Ari sampled the cake and wound up with his face covered in bright green frosting.

One afternoon in September, Zell dropped into Rinoa's office on his lunch break, his gray coveralls streaked in grease and his hair slicked back to keep it out of his eyes.

"Hey," he greeted. "Got any plans for the weekend?"

"Nothing in particular, why?" Rinoa asked.

"Well, this dude needed some work done on his transmission, but couldn't come up with the cash," Zell said. "So he laid a few tickets to the Fall Music Fest in Dollet on me as payment. Wanna go? Selphie's already said she's in."

"Can't," Rinoa said. "Kids. But you guys go. Have fun."

"No, no, no," Zell said. "I got it all worked out. Quistis said she'd watch the kids, no problem. I invited her but she says she can't stand crowds, so you have no excuses."

Rinoa bit her lip and glanced at the door to see Melane staring at Zell with interest. Zell either noticed Rinoa looking or he sensed the red-head's stare. He turned around, caught her eye, then turned back to Rinoa, blushing.

"I think she's got a crush on you," Rinoa said.

Zell's cheeks blazed as he looked away and his posture was so aww-shucks, Rinoa had to laugh. The attraction must have been mutual if Zell was so embarrassed by her attention. He'd always been shy around girls he was interested in.

"Nah," he said. "I got, you know, enough girl trouble right now."

"What do you mean?"

Zell wandered further into the office and sat on a short filing cabinet.

"Remember Angie?" he asked.

"The girl from the library at Garden?"

"Yeah."

"The girl that dumped you for no good reason?" Rinoa asked.

"Yeah."

"I thought she moved to Deling City."

"She's back," he said. "She came in to the garage a couple days ago to get her tires rotated."

"Did she now?" Rinoa said with a big grin. "Did you change her oil too?"

Zell lifted his eyes, scowled and threw his shop rag at her.

"You just opened your mouth and Irvine Kinneas came out," he said. "That's kinda creepy, Rin."

Rinoa giggled and threw the rag back at him. "Sooo?"

"Well, we got caught up, you know, kinda awkward and all," he said, "but, I kinda... wound up... asking her out."

Rinoa's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Angie was the first girl Zell dated seriously, his first love, basically his first everything. Then one day, she broke up with him and moved to Deling City without much of an explanation, leaving Zell with a broken heart and not a clue why she left him.

"Well, I guess one date can't hurt anything, right?" Rinoa asked, but she had her doubts. "But I swear, if she hurts you again, I will remove my Odine bangle and show her what happens to people who mess with my friends."

"Don't worry," Zell said. "It's not like we're getting married or something. It's just a casual thing. I think."

Rinoa wondered if Zell still harbored feelings for Angie after all these years. Maybe, she was the reason he was so reluctant to date. Often, he mentioned his desire for family, to settle down, but his actions told a different story. Rinoa couldn't remember the last time his friend went on more than a couple dates with the same girl.  It had been even longer since he dated anyone for more than a few months. Carrying a torch for his first love might explain it. If he'd never given up hope that they'd be reunited, then of course he wouldn't give other women much of a chance.

"Well, I hope you two have a good time," Rinoa said. "It's about time you jumped back into the pool. But there's no rule that says you can't ask Melane out, too."

"I'd rather not double book. Girls get mad about that," he said. "So anyway, back to the festival. You're in, right?"

Rinoa debated with herself about whether or not it was a good idea. On one hand, it would be a lot of fun, and it had been ages since she did anything that didn't involve work or kids. It would be nice to get away. On the other, she would pay the price when she came back. Time spent away from either usually carried with it some kind of backlash.

"Say yes," Zell said. "Please say yes. Don't make me spend a weekend alone with Selphie. No good can come of that."

Rinoa chuckled. "Or very _good_ things could come of that."

"If you mean jail time after Selphie 'accidentally' blows up the fountain in the square, that's not my idea of a good time," he said. "We need a mom friend since Quistis doesn't want to go."

"I'm your choice for a mom friend?" Rinoa asked. "Wow. You know you're bad off when you expect me to be the responsible one."

"Exactly!" Zell cried. "We need you, Rin. It's for our own good."

"All right," Rinoa conceded. "Fine. I'll go. But if either of you wind up in jail, I'm not bailing you out."

* * *

The Festival featured music acts from all over the world, of all different kinds, and it was a perfect weekend for it. The weather was nice, the sky full of soft, puffy clouds, and there was just enough of a breeze to take the edge off the heat.

Selphie danced from the time they set foot on the grounds till the time she fell face first into bed, a little too drunk and slightly sunburned because she forgot to put on sunscreen. Rinoa truly became the mom-friend.  She spent her day doling out bottled water and sun block and snacks and whenever Selphie strayed into groups of strangers to spread her joy, Rinoa carefully steered her away.

It was a little like being at home, except Rinoa's children were better behaved, and she spent a good part of both days making sure Selphie stayed out of trouble and that Zell didn't drink too much and wind up passed out under a tree.

The second night, the three of them went out to a club near the hotel. Rinoa was pretty sure they were the oldest people in the room, but she let herself be coaxed into dancing, first as a trio, then just with Zell when Selphie decided to go get drinks. Not that Selphie needed more booze, but she was so exhausting, Rinoa let her go just to get a break.

When Selphie didn't come back, Rinoa began to worry until she spotted her on the bar dancing with a tall, lean man in black chaps, no shirt, and a black stetson upon his head.

"Hey, Zell, is that Irvine?" Rinoa asked. "Over on the bar with Selphie?"

"Oh, geez," Zell said. "Yeah, looks like it."

"Now we're never going to get her to leave," Rinoa said.

"Eh, don't worry about her," Zell said. "At least he's keeping her occupied."

They danced for a while longer, and Rinoa found she was actually having fun now that she wasn't obligated to chase Selphie down every five minutes. This was the kind of fun she missed having with her friends, without having to worry about the kids. She indulged in a couple more drinks and let Zell spin her around the dance floor under strobe lights as the DJ played cheesy, bass heavy pop music.

For a while, she forgot about everything that bothered her.

By the time they were ready to call it a night, Selphie was nowhere to be found, and neither was Irvine. Rinoa debated whether they should look for her or not. If she was with Irvine, she was more or less safe, though slightly more inclined to do something crazy.

"She'll be fine," Zell promised. "The worst that will happen is that she stumbles into your room at four in the morning, dragging Irvine behind her."

Zell was right. The two might have a volatile and rocky history, but when they did get together, they only had eyes for each other until they started fighting again.

Rinoa gave the room one last sweep, in case the two were cuddled up in a corner, but no one matched their descriptions. It was likely Irvine had a room of his own or even a bachelor pad somewhere nearby and they'd gone off to be alone.

Tipsy and feeling lighter than she had in ages, Rinoa linked her arm through Zell's as they left the club and walked to the hotel a short distance away.

"We should do stuff like this more often," Zell said.

"What, chase drunk Selphie away from groups of strangers?" Rinoa teased.

"You know what I mean," Zell said. "Nights out. Weekends away. Sightseeing."

"It's so much harder when you have kids," Rinoa said.

"Maybe not," Zell said. "I heard Laguna say he'd be happy to take them off your hands whenever you needed it."

"Laguna can't even keep a box turtle alive," Rinoa said. "He's great with the kids, but on his own, for extended periods of time? I just don't know."

"Aww, give the guy some credit," Zell said as he threw his arm around Rinoa's shoulders. "Kiros and Ward wouldn't let him forget to feed them. Hell, Ella wouldn't let him forget. You know how she gets when she's hungry."

"I know, it's just... It's hard to trust someone else with your kids. Daytime, when I'm close by is one thing. A couple of days with an ocean between us is something else." she said. "And if something happened, I'd never forgive myself."

Zell opened the door for her and followed her into the Hotel lobby. As she stepped into the elevator, Rinoa thought about the future.

She couldn't picture loving or marrying someone else, or having to go through the hell of dating as a single parent. She was a few steps closer to moving on, but there was still a long way to go.

But, Hyne she was lonely. If not for Zell's constant company, she'd be lost.

"We could do something with the kids," he suggested. "Go camping on the plains? Have a big bonfire and set up tents and have a big party with everybody. Ella would love that."

It was a nice idea, but every year, the number of people that encompassed   _everybody_  got smaller and smaller.

"We'll make s'mores and cook stuff in foil packets. Watch the stars, tell ghost stories," Zell said. "It'll be fun."

"Yeah, maybe," Rinoa agreed as she slid her key card to unlock her door. "Maybe once it cools off. October or something?"

She opened the door, took half a step inside and was greeted by the sight of too many feet in her bed, then a man's glowing white butt with a deep, bikini-shaped tan line. Rinoa blinked at it and wondered if she was in the wrong room until Selphie moaned, "Oh, Irvy!"

"Oh my god," she murmured, slapped a hand over her eyes and stepped back. "I did  _not_  want to see that."

Zell started to giggle, which escalated into a hysterical belly laugh and he pressed his face into the wall directly across from the door to muffle the sound.

"Oh, Irvy!" he cried in falsetto.

"Quit it," Rinoa said, unable to help her own giggles. "They're in my bed!"

"Come on," Zell said and offered his arm. "Mine room's got a king. Worst case scenario, we can build a pillow fence and let those to do... Whatever it is they're doing. We'll find a movie to watch and raid the mini bar."

In Zell's room, Rinoa kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the bed as Zell poked through the assorted bottles of alcohol inside the small fridge by the dresser.

"What's your poison?" he asked. "We've got whiskey, gin... Wine?"

"No wine," Rinoa said as she flicked on the television. "It'll make me sick."

Zell joined her on the bed a few minutes later with a pair of drinks and a bag of chips. Rinoa flipped through channels, finding little of interest on the television. News. More news. A documentary about Estharian technology. A martial arts movie.

"Wait, stop there," Zell said and snatched the remote away from her. On screen, two men engaged in a heavily choreographed fight, complete with silly sound effects. "This is a classic!"

"No," Rinoa whined. "No testosterone-fest. Please, please, not this."

"My room," Zell said as he settled back against the pillow, "my rules. Unless you wanna go watch the train derail in your room..."

Rinoa set her drink aside and lunged for the remote. "Give me."

"Nope," Zell said and switched the remote to his other hand. "Mine."

"I'll fight you for it."

"Okay, but my drunk reflexes are on point," he said. "Winner gets movie pick?"

"You're on."

She lunged for it again, grabbing for the the remote and wound up halfway draped over Zell with her hand wrapped around his wrist. She pried it away from his and scrambled across the bed, laughing as Zell tackled her and slung her onto her back, and attempted to reclaim the prize. He pinned her down, peeled her fingers away from the coveted item as Rinoa switched it to her other hand, laughing as she hid it behind her back.

He slid his hand under her, seized it from her grasp and held it high in victory.

"You have much to learn, grasshopper," he said.

Rinoa only became aware of how intimate their respective positions were when Zell's grin softened and he released her wrist to comb his fingers through her hair. It was not a friendly touch, but loving, gentle.

He tossed the remote aside, movie, victory forgotten and took her face between his hands. One thumb grazed along the edge of her bottom lip, and her heart began to pound as he looked down at her with a mixture of conflict and love in his eyes.

It had been nearly two years since she'd experienced physical intimacy, and until now, it never occurred to her how badly she craved it. She lived with an ache in her chest for the last two years, the kind that only the touch of someone who loved her could chase away.

His lips grazed over her forehead, over her closed eyelids, the tip of her chin before they brushed against her mouth, and Rinoa didn't stop him.

"I want you," he breathed in her ear, so softly, Rinoa wasn't sure if she heard it or not.

She didn't push him away when he kissed her, didn't say no. Between alcohol and loneliness, it was easy to let this happen, easy to give in and let her body rather than reason inform her decisions. It was a solid way kill the sharp sting of grief in her heart. She needed a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.

If it chased the hurt away and helped her forget how deep Squall's absence cut her, it was worth it, wasn't it? 

Zell's lips were hesitant and gentle at first, but when Rinoa responded, he grew more eager and determined, and Rinoa let herself be drawn in, desperate to feel loved again, if only for a little while. It was clear, from the way he kissed her that she was. That he did.

He could easily become more than just a friend in time, and Rinoa wouldn't deny it. He was a good man. He'd been there all along, day in and day out, no matter what, and she loved him in her own way. It wasn't the same deep, intense and consuming love she felt for Squall. It wasn't even close, but if she let him, Zell could be the cure for her loneliness, the salve that mended her broken heart.

But right now, he could only be a substitute.

And that wasn't fair. He deserved better.

Zell pulled back to look down at her, and she saw her own conflict reflected in his eyes.

"Shit," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

He sat up and moved to sit at the edge of the bed, facing the window.  He dropped his head into his hands. Rinoa didn't know what to do, or what to say, and she was a little too drunk to puzzle out what stopped him. She doubted he was any more sober than she was, but at least he still had it in him to check himself before it was too late.

"I can't do this, Rin," he said. "It's not right."

"I'm not even sure what  _this_  is," Rinoa said. "But if you want, we can pretend it never happened."

"That's the thing," he said. "I don't want to  _pretend_  anymore."

His shoulders rose as he sucked in a deep breath. He exhaled through his mouth, the sound a soft hiss, and he ground his palms against his closed eyes. Rinoa, against her better judgment, scooted to the end of the bed and leaned her face against his back.

He was shaking.

"This is really hard," he said. "I didn't think it was going to be this hard."

"Zell, what are you talking about?" Rinoa asked.

"All of it," he said wearily. "You, me, the kids. I was just supposed to be the best bud, helping out a friend in need, you know?"

Rinoa didn't understand what he was getting at. Either because alcohol dulled her ability to grasp his meaning, or because he wasn't making sense, but she sensed she wasn't going to like what he was about to say.

"It's my own fault and I'm not blaming you," he said. "I just... It was so easy to let myself fall in love with your family. I feel like Ari's my son, like Ella's my daughter. Sometimes, I daydream about them calling me dad..."

His voice was nearly a whisper, but it was so bitter, she almost didn't recognize the Zell she knew in his tone.

"And tonight, for about two minutes, I thought maybe it was possible you guys really could be my family," he said. "That it wasn't just some stupid thing I think about after everyone's gone to bed."

Rinoa lost her breath. Tears sprang to her eyes and she pressed her cheek harder into his back.

"I should be out there trying to find my own thing," he said. "And here I am, pretending to be something I'm not, trying to fill Squall's shoes, and I just realized  _I'm not him_. I'll never be him, and you will never look at me the way you looked at him."

Tears spilled from Rinoa's eyes and she wrapped her arms tight around his waist. His heartbeat thumped hard and heavy against her ear, a bass drum, a timpani, a marching cadence.

"I'd like to think he'd be okay with it," Zell said. "That he'd rather it be me than some stranger he never met because he knows I'd never hurt you but... I felt like I was betraying him..."

Rinoa hadn't thought of Squall at all in the moment. Not until just before Zell pulled back.

And Hyne, how that hurt.

"Zell-"

"Just listen," he said. "Please."

Rinoa tightened her grip on his waist, unwilling to let him go. She'd come to count on him too much over the last two year to let go. It was selfish, but she  _needed_  him.

"Please don't ruin this," she said into his back. "Please."

He shuddered, brought his his hands to her arms and gently disengaged her. When he stood, he went to the window without looking back at her, leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes.

"I think I'm gonna move back into Ma's," he said. "The house is just sitting there empty and, if I stay I'm gonna fall in love with you and..."

Rinoa's hand slapped over her mouth to hold back a cry at Zell's sincerity 

"...it's gonna break my heart."

"Zell-"

"Shit," he said to the window. "That's a lie. I'm already there. I love you, and I feel like shit about it. You have no idea, Rin. How much I love you, or the kids."

He paused, wiped his eyes and sniffled, and Rinoa's heart hurt for him. She had some inkling that there was more to Zell's feelings, she just didn't see how deep they ran until now.

"I didn't mean to feel this way, but I can't hold out for the day when it doesn't make me feel like an asshole or a pretender, you know?" he said. "And I know better than to hope you feel the same way."

"You're not an asshole," she choked out. "Please don't do this. Please don't say any more."

Rinoa was the asshole. She was the one that pretended from time to time he was Squall. She was the one who allowed him to play husband in every way but one. It wasn't his fault he saw hope for more. That blame lay squarely on Rinoa's shoulders she could only be angry with herself for taking advantage of his selflessness.

"I'm so sorry, Rin," he said. "I just need to sort myself out. I'll still be around if you need me, just not as close."

Rinoa nodded and buried her face in her knees. She should have seen this coming. It wasn't fair to expect him to stick around forever, but she wished there was some way to do that without losing her best friend in the process.

Her heart broke as he tossed his things into his bag and walked out, but she had no right to try to stop him. He was not responsible for her, and she didn't have the right to beg him to stay.

No matter how much she wanted to.

* * *

Zell walked the streets of Dollet until the sun came up, unable to face Rinoa after everything he'd said.

Why did he say anything at all?

Because there was some part of him that hoped she'd see it, that she felt the same way, that she would convince him there was no reason to feel like such a prick. Squall was gone. It wasn't cheating.

But it sure as hell felt like it.

It was stupid, but for a minute, he allowed himself to imagine a future together, built on trust and genuine friendship, a future where he got the family he wanted without even having to try.

That was the problem. It was too easy to pretend. He stopped looking. He fit so easily and so seamlessly into Rinoa's family, he believed himself a part of it. He fell in love with Ella and Ari, with Rinoa and the house and with the comfort of having someone to come home to at the end of the day.

It hurt like hell to walk away, but he was a fool to think he could even touch Squall's memory. He would never measure up and he shouldn't have tried.

The worst part was that feeling of betrayal, like he'd gone behind Squall's back. Squall was dead, but that didn't make it any less a sin. Zell was a total shithead for thinking otherwise and now he'd gone and wrecked the very best thing he'd known in forever.

He boarded the first train out of Dollet and went directly to the house when he arrived in Balamb to pack his things. Quistis was in the living room with the kids, surprised by his early arrival.

"Where are Rinoa and Selphie?" Quistis asked.

"Not with me," he said. "I'm just gonna grab a few things and go. They'll be here after lunch."

"What happened?"

Zell just shook his head. "I'm an idiot. That's what happened."

He didn't look at the photos of himself with Rinoa and the kids or let himself think about how they replaced the pictures of Squall. He didn't look at the kids, even as Ella crashed into his legs and hugged him tight, Ari toddling behind her on adorable pudgy little legs.

"Sell," Ari greeted and clapped his hands. "Dood."

Zell pressed his lips together and tried not to lose it. He bent down, scooped Ari up and held on, his face against the boy's head. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't. They weren't his to cry over. He had overstayed his welcome. This was not his home, and these were not his kids.

"Hey little dude," he said. "How you been?"

"Ba!"

"Yeah, me too," Zell agreed.

What was he doing? This only made it harder. He needed to get his things, say goodbye and leave.

But, as he walked out of the house an hour later, it felt like he was turning his back on everything and everyone he loved.

Maybe, because he was.

* * *

An investigation of TBI revealed it was owned and operated by a woman named Theresa Black, but none of the employees could agree on what she looked like. That was evidence enough for Seifer to dig into the company to see what he could find out.

There wasn't much, as the company's fleet of six shipping vessels rarely left the harbor in Dollet. Five of the six were in such bad repair, Seifer doubted they were even seaworthy. All of them were full of rusted, empty shipping containers, and no one at port had ever seen anyone aboard.

A seventh vessel was registered to the company – a luxury sailboat with a powerful onboard motor that was designed for both leisure and speed. No one knew where it was, and there was no record for more than two years of it in or out of port in Dollet, but Seifer found the registration number logged in Balamb on several occasions in the last year.

Trabia didn't keep port arrival and departure records on leisure vessels, so he couldn't confirm that it was in the area when Squall was captured, but Seifer doubted it mattered so much. He asked Laguna to put out a  _be-on-the-lookout_  request for Balamb port officials to alert him if the sail boat arrived in the harbor, and did the same for Dollet, Galbadia and Esthar. So far, nothing came back.

All vessels registered in Dollet were equipped with an onboard tracking monitor. In case of emergency, it could be located anywhere on the globe, even when submerged, and could not be disabled without shutting off auxiliary power. This would be extremely helpful in tracking it down, if not for Dollet's resistance to lending a hand.

Laguna appealed to the powers that be, and after several months of petitioning the court, along with a bit of evidence to prove the vessel was connected with a series of robberies and terrorist activity in Galbadia, Esthar and Dollet, they finally relented and provided Laguna with a tracking device, on loan from the Dolletian government for a month.

Presently, Seifer and Ellone were aboard an Estharian military craft built for speed. They brought along six Estharian soldiers from the Special Forces division, people Seifer personally trained, and a small support crew.

They made their way to southern Centra, where the blip on the tracker remained stationary on the screen. It would take days to arrive, leaving Seifer and Ellone with nothing to do but train.

Ellone had progressed by leaps and bounds under Seifer's guidance. She worked hard, didn't mind his gruffness, and took pain like a champ. After a while, their duels became a lot of fun for Seifer. Physically, she was no match for him, but being small and fast and unpredictable, she offered him a different sort of challenge. A typical adversary, Seifer would just pummel into submission, but he couldn't catch her. If he did somehow manage to get her cornered, it was never for long and she always fought her way out.

He feared less for her safety now, but as time went on, he grew more concerned for her mental well being. She spent a significant portion of the last six months attempting to connect without losing consciousness, and it was both physically and emotionally taxing in ways that Seifer could only understand on a basic level. It took a lot of effort for her to stay awake while connected, and she couldn't maintain it long before she was either forced to break the connection or slipped into dreams.

There were long periods of silence following the rare moments when she was able to connect with Squall during the day, but at night, when she slept, it happened more and more often. She would wake up screaming or on the floor in the grips of a seizure, and Seifer would have to throw her in the shower and turn on the cold water to bring her back.

If this didn't end soon, Seifer was going to have Laguna take her off the investigation. It was painful to watch.

Finding Squall became an obsession for Seifer, something he couldn't let go of until he finished it. He was not used to draw- out cases like this and he hated all the waiting, the bumping into walls, and the lingering certainty that Squall would not be there at the end of all this.

His history with the younger man was rocky, and they'd never been able to call one another a friend, but it wasn't something Seifer could let go of easily. They'd spilled one another's blood countless times, had scarred each other, had stood on opposite sides of a battlefield, and shared a kind of past only a ward of Garden could understand. After all that, like him or not, Seifer couldn't just throw Squall's life away.

He wanted this for Rinoa.

For Laguna. For Ellone.

There were debts to pay, after all. It wasn't a quest for redemption, and he didn't need their forgiveness, but he owed them. If he could bring Squall home, perhaps his debt would be paid.

Days passed of nothing but endless ocean, the only differences marked by the color of the sky. The closer to Centra they got, the more the weather deteriorated. First rain, then high winds and rough seas and the occasional thunder storm. Afternoons were spent training if the weather was better, and in the evenings, Seifer exhausted resource after resource as he followed leads provided by Cid's trail of crumbs.

As they grew closer to their destination, Ellone's anxiety increased. Seifer didn't blame her. He was wound up enough that he didn't sleep so well and was agitated and out of patience with everything and everyone. He'd only slept in his own apartment twice in the last year and he was ready to go home. He missed his own bed and meals not cooked in an industrial kitchen.

It was wearying. But maybe, that steady blip on the radar was a beacon, the light that would bring Squall home.

More than a week after they left the Port of Dollet, they arrived, half a mile from their destination and prepared for approach.

Ellone sat at the small war room table among soldiers with a thousand times more combat experience than herself, but she fit right in, almost indistinguishable from the more battle worn members of the team. She was dressed in tactical clothing like the others, her blades buckled into holsters at her hips, a warrior of a different kind, but she earned her place among them.

There was no plan, only a hope that the vessel they sought was Squall's prison. They would approach, board and search, and if they met any resistance, they had permission to incapacitate.

"We'd like Blackheart alive, if possible, for questioning," Seifer said. "But I'm not gonna lose sleep if she has to be put down."

Ellone visibly winced at his terminology, but they already discussed that possibility in private, and she knew if they were left with no option, it was for the best. The world didn't need someone like Thalia Blackheart running around, fighting a war that wasn't really happening.

"Use caution," Seifer said. "She can and will use her abilities against you. Do not engage her. Ellone and I will handle the target ourselves. Your orders are to subdue any remaining crew and search the ship for hostages."

The Esthar team was not informed who the hostage might be. Seifer didn't want news to leak beforehand. It would be devastating if Rinoa heard about it and it turned out to not be a bust.

"It should go without saying, anything you see and hear during this mission is classified," Seifer said. "You do not go home and tell your spouse or your best friend or your mother. If I hear one whisper about this after the fact, I will personally hunt you down and stick my gunblade up your ass and out the top of your skull, is that understood?"

Up on deck, the sky was a dark, bruised violet to the east and the sea choppy ahead of the coming storm. Seifer frowned at the clouds as his team readied their weapons. If they were lucky, this would be over and done with before the first drop of rain fell. If they weren't, Blackheart wasn't the only force of nature there was to fear.

He took Ellone aside and outfitted her with a radio and an ear piece, then helped her into a bulletproof vest because she wasn't junctioned any more than he was. When he was done, he shook her her lightly, to help ease the tension in her body.

"First real battle, kiddo," he said and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I hope it won't be much of one," she said. "And who are you calling kiddo? I'm four years older than you."

She poked him in the shoulder and fiddled with her ear piece. To Seifer, she looked small and breakable. If she wasn't the only defense against Thalia, the only one of them who might be immune to her power, Seifer would leave her behind.

"Hey, Elle... If anything should happen, I want you to know - "

Seifer paused, unsure of what he wanted to say.

"- I still think you've got a puny head," he finished.

Ellone's tiny fists smacked into his chest and Seifer backed away, laughing as she struck out at him. She landed light blows against his arms and shoulders until he took her by the wrists and pulled her toward him.

"You are such a jerk," she said. "Just when I thought you might actually say something nice."

"You have a  _nice_  head. Is that better?"

"Why are you so fixated on the size of my head?"

"Because it makes you mad," he said. "And you're cute when you're mad."

Ellone rolled her eyes, but her smile was pleased. 

"Is it really so hard for you to say:  _I'm very fond of you, Ellone Loire. I would be very upset if something happened to you?_ "

"Is that what you want me to say?"

"Forget it," she said. "I understand. You're too manly to admit you enjoy my company."

She pulled away and turned for the rail as their spotter called out and flagged Seifer over. The ship had been sighted.

Seifer followed behind Ellone, an unsettled twinge in his gut as he watched her wrap one gloved hand around the metal railing. He stepped up beside her and cast his eyes to the sea. In the distance, the shape of a sailboat loomed beyond the jetties.

"This could be it, Elle," he said.

She closed her eyes as the wind picked up, nodded and reached for his hand. Seifer didn't have to be told that she was trying to connect with Squall. He knew the look by now.

Their craft picked up speed and Seifer held onto Ellone's hand. His pulse raced in anticipation of a fight and he grinned at the not-so-distant sailboat. They would come alongside the vessel in less than two minutes and Seifer prepared to disembark.

"Elle, showtime," he said. "Let's bring him home."

* * *

Squall watched with only mild interest as thousands of spiders roamed the room around him. Spindly legged and ugly, they trailed over the walls and across the ceiling like well organized little armies. He sat perfectly still as several explored his legs and feet, feeling them, but  _not_  feeling them as their hairy appendages moved across his skin.

Across from him, where the wall was supposed to be, was the beach in Balamb. A perfect sunny day, a light breeze. Ella, taller and prettier than ever, dressed in pale blue and ribbons. A flower crown twined through her hair, and the sunlight brought out hints of cinnamon and gold in the long strands. She held the hand of a toddler with dark eyes, a boy with a determined expression and a sturdy build.

"Stay still, Ari," Ella commanded, but the determined boy leaned away from her, his hand opening and closing at the sand. "You can play in the sand later."

Squall blinked away the vision and the spiders around him multiplied in number.  The near-silent whisper of eight-thousand legs in motion sent a chill through his veins.

_Squall. We're coming. Hyne willing, we'll be there soon._

Sis.

Squall didn't dare hope she was really there. Hope could crush him.

_Listen for a ruckus, Squall. Fighting, raised voices. When you hear it, make some noise. Scream or something, so we can find you._

The only sound Squall heard was the quiet march of miniscule arachnid legs and the slosh of water as the turbulent sea tossed the ship about.

The room around him filled with a blinding light as a bolt of electricity raced along the ceiling and sent branches and forked pathways along the walls to the floor. All the hair on Squall's arms stood up as thin threads of electricity arched toward his skin. A thousand little pin pricks spread out across his body – not painful, but not a pleasant sensation, either.

The spiders morphed into rats, and Zell appeared in the center of the room, Ella on his hip.

" _You're my dad now, right?" Ella asked._

" _If you want me to be, bud."_

That hurt. All the way to the bone.

Rats crawled up Zell's legs and Squall cringed as they sniffed curiously at Ella's feet. Oblivious, Zell pressed a kiss to Ella's forehead. A rat crawled up the back of her dress and perched on her shoulder. All around them, lightning zig-zagged along the walls, turning Zell's eyes a maniacal, electric blue.

" _I'm a better father than you ever were," Zell said._

Squall's hands clenched as the rats swarmed over him. Some of them had too many legs. Too many eyes, some covered in webs of electric threads and spider silk. Squall squeezed his eyes shut to make them go away.

" _I made love to her, Squall," Zell said, his voice mean. "In your bed. And she loved it."_

"Shut up," Squall spat. "Shut up, shut up!"

When he opened his eyes, Zell's smile was vicious, like the perpetual grin of a shark. A rat sniffed at his ear and threads of lightning spread over his tattoo and across half his face. A second Zell appeared beside him and his face melted, disappeared, became a black hole filled with dull stars and swirling galaxies.

Something was happening. There was no ruckus, as Ellone warned, but it was unusual for Thalia to blend horrors together like this. She delighted in her torments, but they were an organized assault on his senses, not a random collection of terrors or confused and incomplete images. He wasn't sure if Thalia was creating it or if his mind finally splintered.

Cold water trickled up the leg of his pants from a steady river of seawater that bled from under the door. It smelled of the ocean, but also of blood.

Outside the door came a loud bang, several thumps and gunfire. The room filled with Zells, all of them with pointy toothed smiles and faces that twisted and melted like candle wax. Squall tried to blink it away and half of them winked out of existence. The remainder loomed over him in triumph.

"She's mine now.  _Mine_."

Squall opened his mouth and howled, his voice hoarse and weak among the chorus of hateful words that spewed from the phantoms mouths. Eight-legged rats bit and nipped at his legs through his pants and he screamed louder, and only partially because Ellone asked him to.

The door banged open and two men dressed in tactical apparel stepped inside the room, Estharian Special Forces, if he were to judge by the uniforms. They pushed past all the Zells and waded through the rats and the water.  Electricity twined up their legs.

"We've found a hostage, Sir," one said into his radio. "Below deck."

"Give me a description," a familiar voice came back.

Seifer?

"Dark hair, blue eyes, approximately thirty years old, male," the Estharian said. "Scar like yours..."

"Is he alive?" Seifer asked. "Injured?"

"Looks and smells like he should be dead, Sir, but he's definitely alive."

"Get his name."

The soldier knelt on the floor beside him and squeezed his arm. Tiny spiders flew off like specks of dust and the Zells behind him fizzled out, one by one.

"What's your name?" the soldier asked and held up his radio. "Say it so Almasy can hear."

"Leonhart, Squall. SeeD, Rank A, Balamb Garden Commander," Squall murmured. "ID number 41269."

There was a long pause before Seifer came back.

"...it's good to hear your voice, Leonhart, _damn_ good to hear your voice," he said. To the soldier, "Get him unlocked. We'll meet up as soon as Elle's got Blackheart subdued."

"Affirmative," the soldier said. "But he isn't restrained, sir."

Not restrained? There were heavy cuffs around his wrists.

But, when Squall looked down, there were no chains, no metal bracelets. Nothing at all. Confused, he turned his hands over on his thighs, saw long healed rings of scar tissue around both wrists, but there were no bindings at all.

There was a hiss and a concussive sound that rattled the floor beneath him and the air filled with the scent of ozone. Splinters of lightning flickered in the soldier's eyes.

Squall didn't fight as he was lifted to his feet. His legs shook beneath him as diminished and little used muscles strained under his weight. His head swam as a cold dizziness crept over him. He couldn't remember the last time he stood on his own. They carried him from the room, and up a narrow staircase where he could smell the ocean and smoke and the cool, clean scent of rain.

Up on deck, a ferocious wind blew. The mainsail tore loose from its ties and flapped in the hard breeze, ablaze against a dark, boiling sky. Squall was set down upon the deck and he slumped back as hands and cold instruments were pressed to his skin.

Beneath him, the ship rocked, and the sky split apart. Squall fixed his gaze upon the burning sail as ash and ember fell like snow around him.

A pair of thin, mean-looking blades crashed down onto the deck beside him and a body slammed into his. Thin arms twined around his torso and held him tight.

"Oh, thank God," she breathed.

"Elle?"

"It's me. We're taking you home, little brother. You're safe now."


	14. Chapter 14

14

* * *

Squall was in bad shape.

Ellone blinked back tears as she surveyed her little brother and the damage Thalia had done.

Clad in only hospital style scrub pants, Squall's torso was wasted and covered in scars and bruises. He was a skeleton covered in flesh, his skin grayish and his eyes dull and sunken. It was a miracle he'd survived this long, but he wouldn't have lasted much longer, no matter how strong he was. It stole her breath to see him like this, and her heart ached for the pain and suffering he'd endured.

"Sorry we took so long," she murmured. "But you're safe now."

He could barely keep his head up or his eyes open, but his chapped lips moved as if he was trying to say something. All that came out was a raspy, breathy sound.

"It's okay," she said. "Don't try to talk if it's too hard."

"Are you really here?" he whispered.

"I'm really here," she promised. "We're going to get you fixed up and take you home."

"Is it still mine?"

"Your home? Of course it is," she said, perplexed by the question. "I know Rinoa will be so happy to see you. She's missed you so much."

Seifer crouched beside her, his face so full of pity, the tears Ellone tried to hold back spilled over.

"Hate to interrupt, but we still need to apprehend Blackheart."

Ellone wiped her eyes, collected her blades and stood. For a few minutes, she'd forgotten about her mission. Any and all thoughts about Thalia had left her the second she'd seen Squall alive, but Seifer was right. There was no way they could let her go free.

Her hands curled around the grips of her blades and she gritted her teeth as she peered up at Seifer. Never in her life had she wanted someone dead more than she did now. If Ellone got the chance, Thalia would pay for what she'd done to Squall.

Seifer dragged a hand over her windblown hair, chucked her under the chin and his smile said he knew she was out for blood.

"Let's go kill her," she said.

"Atta girl," Seifer said. He turned back to Squall and the medics attending to him. "Stop whatever it is you're doing and get him to the vessel. I don't want to chance her getting a hold of him again."

"Team, give me a status on Blackheart," Ellone said into her radio. "Anyone got a location?"

"Wheelhouse clear."

"Berth clear. No sign of target."

Bolts of lightning raced along the deck at her feet and up the masts, mirroring the electrified and boiling sky above. Ellone blinked and the image was gone, but Seifer reacted as if it was still there and jumped out of the way of something she couldn't see.

There was a burst of gunfire from below, shouts and several people tried to speak at once. Her chest tightened and she turned for the hatch that led below.

"I didn't copy that," Ellone said. "Repeat?"

"Below deck, Ma'am, we've got her cornered."

"Do not engage," Seifer barked. "Keep her there, but  _do not_  engage."

"We're standing in knee deep water, Sir," a second voice came back. "Ship's sinking. Requesting evac."

Ellone jogged to the rail and looked down at the side of the sailboat, Seifer close behind. To her untrained eyes, there were no visible signs of damage to the hull, no sign the boat sat any lower in the water than it should have.

"It's just her mind tricks," Ellone said. Seifer concurred.

"Hold your positions," Seifer said.

Over the radio, there were shouted curses and call-outs to each other. Beside her, Seifer flinched and spun around with wide eyes and a curse of his own. He ducked, slung an arm around Ellone's waist and threw her to the deck. He landed above her to shield her from the attack, his body covering as much of hers as possible, but Ellone saw nothing to be afraid of.

Whatever phantom Seifer had seen, it wasn't visible to Ellone.

_Just another trick._

"Seifer, here's nothing there," she said. "Get off me."

"You don't see that?" he asked as he turned his face to the sky.

"No," she said. "It isn't real."

She wanted to ask what he was seeing, but it was less important than finding and subduing Thalia before she convinced the entire team to drown themselves. It didn't matter what illusion was. All that mattered to Ellone was stopping her.

"She's heading your way, Ma'am," someone said on the radio. "Heading above deck."

Ellone shoved Seifer aside and sprang to her feet as Seifer rolled away from something invisible. He would be of little use to her if he had no choice but to see it. Ellone had the advantage over everyone else aboard. She saw through the illusion, if she saw it at all, and if Thalia was too focused on creating her invisible hell, Ellone stood a good chance of getting the upper hand.

At the mouth of the deck hatch, she nearly collided with Thalia and jumped back as the woman swung a katana style blade, narrowly missing Ellone's arm. The air around them shimmered with heat, but the vision didn't come through. Thalia scowled and lunged again, brandishing her weapon clumsily and took wild swipes as she advanced.

Ellone defended herself against a flurry of attacks, deflecting each and every one with ease. She intended to employ a tactic Seifer had called "dope on a rope," using Thalia's inexperience with the weapon and her overzealousness against her to wear her down. Ellone backed up, consciously guiding Thalia where she wanted her as she blocked each of Thalia's uncontrolled swipes and only returned fire when the woman left herself open for it.

The hook of Ellone's blade caught Thalia across the stomach and tore through fabric, and Thalia cried out, scowled and lunged forward with her blade straight out, aiming for Ellone's middle. It pierced Ellone's vest but it was stopped by layers of material meant to stop bullets.

Ellone kicked out and planted her foot in Thalia's stomach as the woman attempted to dislodge her sword from the vest. Both Thalia and the Katana were sent backward onto the deck. Nearby, Seifer swung his own blade a things that were not there.

Full of a savage need to avenge Squall, Ellone tossed one of her blades aside and dropped down on fallen woman to deliver a hard open-handed slap across her pale cheek. Thalia went for Ellone's throat but Ellone backhanded her before she could reach it. Thalia's hand shot out and gripped Ellone's wrist and twisted it hard, and she was forced to release her second blade.

"You're a monster," Ellone said through gritted teeth and hit her again, this time with a closed fist, the way Seifer had taught her. Blood burst from Thalia's nose, but she laughed and lashed out with her nails and raked them down the side of Ellone's neck. They dug in deep, but Ellone ignored the flare of pain and grabbed a fist full of Thalia's long, platinum hair.

"So are you," Thalia said with a laugh. "And you know it."

Rain began to fall, cold and heavy, drops clattered against the fiberglass and chrome fixtures as Ellone continued to struggle with her prey. Thalia wriggled, seized Ellone's arm and twisted it, and Ellone was forced to let go of her hair or have her arm broken. She cried out in pain, then annoyance as Thalia used the opportunity to break free.

Ellone grabbed her discarded blade and took a swipe at Thalia's legs as she retreated. The hooked tip cut deep into the meat of the woman's calf and she screamed in pain, stumbled and fell face first an the deck. Ellone was on her back in seconds. She held her blade underhand and brought it down, aiming for her back.

Thalia rolled and threw her off a second before the blade made contact. It cut through the fiberglass deck and lodged there, and Ellone yanked it free as Thalia shot to her feet and fled toward the edge of the boat.

As Ellone stood, she was thrown sideways and into the side of the wheelhouse. A wave crashed over the stern, sending a wall of water over the deck.

Ellone was soaked, and she'd lost sight of Thalia but resumed pursuit in the direction of her retreat. As the sea spray cleared, Ellone wiped salt stung eyes and scanned the deck for her quarry.

Thalia had climbed the safety rail, prepared to jump into the tumultuous sea. Ellone dove for her, caught hold of Thalia's ankle and pulled. Her bare skin was slick with blood, rain and sea water, and Ellone lost her grip. Thalia kicked her in the side of the head, leaned forward and jumped.

"Shit!" Ellone cried.

As she placed a foot up on the rail to follow, she was jerked backwards and a pair of strong arms encircled her as she fought to follow Thalia into the water. All of Ellone's focus had narrowed to a singular goal, and Seifer was standing in the way of that. She flailed her arms and kicked out as he lifted her off the ground to drag her from the edge, and she fought him every step of the way.

"No," Seifer barked in her ear. "It's too dangerous."

"Let me go!" she cried and dug her nails into his wrists.

"Elle.  _No_."

Desperate to follow, to give Thalia her due, Ellone lifted her foot and smashed the heel of her boot against Seifer's shin. He howled in pain, but tightened his grip as she struggled to free herself.

"Goddamnit!" he growled. "You  _can't_."

"Please, just let me finish this," she cried. "Please, Seifer. I have to stop her."

"We did what we came to do," he said. "We got Squall. Let her go."

She continued to fight, blinded by rage so powerful she couldn't think straight. Seifer cursed as he wrestled with her, but all Ellone saw was an opportunity for justice slipping away. When the top of her head collided with Seifer's face, he grunted and resorted to a loose choke hold and hooked an arm behind both her elbows and bent her body backward. It forced her to stop fighting, and she stood there breathing heavily as angry tears spilled down her cheeks and mingled with the rain.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said in her ear. "I will if I have to."

Frustrated, angry and emotionally spent, Ellone collapsed back against him. All the fight drained out of her, and she felt like she was going to vomit as the bitterness of failure clenched in her stomach.

"This is secondary, El," he said. "I know you're pissed. I  _know_  you want blood, but there's a good chance she's already dead. It's too rough and it's too far for her to make it to the shore alive."

"Promise me we'll get her if she  _is_  still alive," she said through clenched teeth.

"If she's still alive, and we find her, I'll let you tear her apart," Seifer promised. "But right now, let's focus on Squall."

Ellone's knees went weak and she sagged against Seifer's chest, the urge to cry almost too strong to fight.

"Right now, he needs you more than you need to kill her," Seifer said. "And I don't want you to die."

* * *

There wasn't time to investigate the sailboat further. Squall needed immediate medical attention and he was the greater priority. Seifer left Ellone with Squall and sent two men with rations and orders to secure the vessel and eliminate Blackheart should she return. He readied the crew and the returning team for departure, then made a call to Laguna to arrange an airlift. It would take a week to get back to Esthar on their vessel, and though the medics were capable, Squall needed more help than they could offer.

Laguna was stunned when Seifer gave him the news, as if he hadn't believed Squall would ever be found alive. Seifer waited impatiently through the long silence that followed and was forced to interrupt when it became too drawn out.

"Rinoa doesn't need to see him like this," Seifer said. "It's your call, but I recommend we get him back on his feet first. I'm not convinced he's gonna make it, and I don't want her to know about this if he's on his way out."

"...is he that bad?"

"Worse," Seifer said. "I don't know how he's still alive."

"I'll have a room prepared for him," Laguna said. "Whatever he needs."

"And transport?"

"We'll meet you somewhere in the Ragnarok," Laguna said. "It's equipped for medical emergencies. I'll have the crew prepare and get back to you on a rendezvous point."

"Good enough for me," Seifer said.

He poked his head in the door of the small infirmary, where the medics were busy attending to Squall. Ellone sat at his bedside, stone faced and her jaw set as she held Squall's hand. She was still soaking wet from the rain, her hair plastered to her head and she shivered under the blast of cold air from the vent above. Three long scratches ran down the side of her neck and there was blood drying on her bottom lip.

Seifer wasn't surprised she'd lost it. He'd seen the look in her eye just before the fight, and he'd caught glimpses of her brutal fight with Thalia. Seeing Squall now, so diminished and frail, it wasn't hard to understand why Ellone would snap. Anger was fuel, and under the right circumstances, could burn cities to the ground. If Ellone had gotten her chance, she would have destroyed Thalia.

Ellone had lost loved ones and had suffered at the hands of men who would have used her power for ill gain. She'd been hunted most of her life and had been forced to hide because of what she was. Through all of it, she'd stood strong, but in Seifer's experience, even the strongest of people had their breaking point. She'd reached hers and had found a killer on the inside, just waiting to come out.

It hurt Seifer physically to see Squall in such pathetic shape. Had Seifer passed him on the street, he wouldn't have recognized him.

Squall lay on a cot, his eyes on the ceiling and a tube in his arm to provide fluids and nourishment. As Seifer entered and took a seat beside Ellone, Squall's eyes slid over him then away and back to the ceiling.

"Hey, Elle? Why don't you go put on some dry clothes? Get yourself patched up," he suggested. "Let me and Squall have a minute alone."

It was clear Ellone would have preferred to stay, but as a shiver passed through her and her teeth chattered from the chill, she nodded and let go of Squall's hand. She leaned down, kissed Squall on the forehead and left without a word.

Seifer settled back in his chair and looked Squall over.

"Goddamn, Leonhart," he said. "We've been looking for you for two years."

Squall's head turned toward him.

"...has it been that long?"

"Thereabouts, give or take a month," Seifer said. "You look like shit, by the way."

Squall's laugh was a soft, breathy sound, more a pant than a chuckle.

"Not the best I've ever felt," he said. His voice was dry and weak. "You worked me over pretty good once, but..." he gave a shuddering sigh, as if it was hard to speak, "you're a lightweight."

Seifer chuckled without humor, checked himself before he patted Squall's shoulder and leaned forward, arms braced against his knees. It had been at least a decade since Seifer had shed a tear, maybe longer, but for a second he wanted to on Squall's behalf.

Later, maybe. When he was alone and had a good half a bottle of whiskey in him. Maybe then.

"I don't know if any of this is real," Squall murmured as his eyes closed. "She could be fucking with me again."

"She's not," Seifer said. "Not this time."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

Seifer thought it was a good sign Squall was alert and able to carry on a conversation. He may have had one foot in the grave, but he hadn't lost his mind as Seifer feared he might.

"If I saw half the shit Ellone showed me, I'd question reality, too," Seifer said. "But I assure you, this is real."

Squall's eyes followed something on the ceiling, from one end of the room to the other.

"She was there," Squall said. "In my head."

"I know," Seifer said. He patted Squall's thin forearm. "She never gave up on you."

"Are the spiders really here?" Squall wondered. "Up there?"

Seifer lifted his eyes to the ceiling and saw nothing but the light fixtures.

"No," he said. "There's nothing there."

* * *

Rinoa dreamed of a dark, bruised sky. The clouds boiled and churned and lit up from within as lightning fractured the sky like a busted windshield. Thunder rumbled the surface at her back and reverberated all through her bones. Above, torn and ghostly fabric caught fire and twisted in the breeze.

Her limbs were heavy and cold, muscles ached, mouth dry. The air smelled of rain and sea and smoke, and particles of white and amber fell all around her, ashes and ember, like snow. There were shouts all around, but the words made no sense, strange hands touching her, a familiar face above her, a flash of steel, and rain began to fall along with the ash.

_You're safe now._

With fear, confusion, and a deep and unsettling ache all the way through to the marrow of her bones, she tried to sit upright, but hands steadied her and lifted her. Something insectile skittered up the leg of her pants -  _not real, not real, but oh, god get it off!_  And Seifer's voice -

_Atta girl._

The clouds bled downward, obscured her limited view into a gray nothingness shot through with webs of electricity and hands caressed her bare skin, lips touched her collarbone -

_I love you._

And when the fog cleared, a woman with silvery eyes stared back at her. She was soaking wet, her pale hair hung in long clumps over her bare shoulders, beads of water clung to her skin, her plush mouth stained the color of blood. Rinoa flinched as the woman drew a cold hand down the length of her torso, fingernails scratching over her ribs.

"You are magnificent, Squall."

_Squall?_

"Most men would lay down and wait to die," the woman said. "You keep asking me for death, but you're still fighting."

Lips pressed to hers, fingers coiled in her hair and Rinoa panicked. There was something wrong with her arms, her legs. Pinned down beneath the woman, she couldn't fight back and when Rinoa looked down at her body, it wasn't her body, but that of a man.

"Let me go."

_Squall?!_

She was struck hard across the face and a burst of pain shot through her head. She tasted blood on the back of her tongue and her vision went white, then dark, and the sky was filled with fire and electricity and ash fell like snow all around her.

Rinoa woke with a bloody nose. An intense anxiety filled her and her body wanted to go in every direction at once, her heart knocking against her ribs in anticipation of a fight. She wiped blood from her lips and stared at it in confusion, her heartbeat pulsing in the left side of her face as if she'd been struck.

She climbed slowly from the bed and probed at her nose, winced, and bolted for the bathroom. In the mirror were blurred shades of pale milk and black and crimson, and the face peering back at her was not her own, but Squall's – too pale, too thin, eyes too haunted to belong to the man she loved. She lifted her hand to the glass and dropped it as Squall did too, his fingers leaving a bloody smear on the way down.

Over the last two years, she'd dreamed of him, but never like this. She'd had nightmares, but never something so confusing or horrifying as this. The man reflected back at her looked hollow and drained – almost a corpse, almost nothing left.

He flickered, out of focus first, then vanished altogether, and he was replaced by the woman from the dream. Her crimson lips curved into a cruel smile and her silvery eyes were cold. Rinoa stepped back, fearful that she could come through the mirror, that she was really there.

"He thought I was you."

Rinoa backed all the way to the wall behind her and pressed against it, eyes wide and her heart in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands fists at her sides and she took a deep, slow breath in through her mouth and exhaled just as slowly. When she opened her eyes, the woman was gone. A lone spider crawled through the sink, front legs exploring the surface of the porcelain. It disappeared down the drain, only to re-emerge with friends.

She scrambled out of the bathroom as the spiders spread out and climbed the walls, over the mirror, where the blonde woman peered back at her with eyes back-lit by some inner glow. Rinoa bumped into something, screamed and spun around to face a much-diminished and dead-eyed Squall.

"You didn't even wait for me to leave, did you?" he asked. "How long?"

"What?" she choked out.

A bony, skeletal arm shot out and seized her around the throat, cutting off a scream as he shoved her toward the bed. His eyes were crazed, bright with madness and Rinoa knew for certain this had to be a dream. He had never looked at her like that, never touched her so roughly. In his emaciated state, didn't even appear to be capable of standing, let alone treating her with such violence.

"Did you fuck him while I was at work?" he breathed in her ear. "In our house?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't lie," he said. "I saw you. Both of you."

His grip on her throat tightened and she coughed and struck at him but when he didn't release her, her body reacted with a Gravija spell that knocked him into the wall. Spiders poured in from the bathroom, over his hair and his arms and legs and he dissolved into ashen particles as Rinoa sank to her knees. A thin whine of terror escaped her lips and her limbs shook as she closed her eyes and tried to will herself awake.

"Mommy?"

She shot to her feet and went to Ella and ushered her out of the bedroom. Whatever had just happened, if it was still happening, Rinoa didn't want her daughter to see it. In the hall, ashes and embers fell from the ceiling, coated the carpet and baseboards. She blinked, and they were gone.

"What happened to your face?" Ella wondered. "You've got blood on you."

Rinoa had forgotten about her injury and lifted a hand to her still bleeding nose.

"It's okay. Mommy fell," Rinoa lied. "Why don't you start getting ready for school and I'll make you some breakfast?"

Ella's gaze was suspicious.

"There's a spider on your leg," she said gravely.

Rinoa glanced down at the hitchhiker and slapped it off her pajama pants and stomped it with her bare foot. Bilious disgust rose in her throat and she swallowed it down to force a smile for Ella.

"Go get ready, sweetie."

She retrieved Ari, who sat in his crib, babbling happily at his stuffed turtle and giggled when Rinoa lifted him into her arms and kissed his chubby cheek.

"Dood," he said.

Zell's name, or a close approximation, had been Ari's first clearly spoken word. Dude was the second. If Rinoa needed any evidence of how the two had bonded, she needed to look no further and it stung every time she heard it.

"You're Ari," she corrected. "I'm mommy."

He patted her cheek with a soft little hand, pulled it away and stared at the smear of blood on his palm. Rinoa used the hem of her night shirt to wipe it away. She was sure her blood was safe, but she was not sure this blood belonged to her.

Downstairs, Rinoa put Ari in the walker he was almost too big for and brewed a pot of coffee. She ignored her trembling hands but found herself searching for spiders and for faces other than her own in the reflections in nearby appliances and surfaces. There was no one but Rinoa, wild eyed, still bloody, her hair in disarray.

In the kitchen sink, she washed her face and felt along the bridge of her nose for injury.

It was broken.

The rest of the day, Rinoa was keyed up and anxious, certain from time to time that something watched just outside her peripheral vision. Each time she turned to look, there was nothing there, but as her paranoia increased, every little sound became a threat.

Something was wrong. The dream or hallucination, and the feeling that something was about to happen was too powerful to ignore. As she sat staring at her computer screen, she wondered if she was about to crack.

She picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Kadowaki, but Xu answered instead.

"We had to let her go, Rinoa," Xu said. "In fact, as of the end of this week, Garden is no longer."

"What?"

"Cid's creditors have come to claim it," she said. "He used it as collateral for a loan and now that he's dead and can't pay it back, we're being evicted."

That was news to Rinoa. Cid was dead? When had that happened? And how?

"Can't you just run them off?" Rinoa asked as she thought of the incident with NORG.

"I wanted to fight back, but legally, we have to turn it over."

"I didn't know any of this."

"We've kept it quiet, so I'd appreciate it if you don't spread it around until we make the official announcement."

"What happens to all the wards?" Rinoa wondered. "Those of you that live there?"

"Most will transfer to Galbadia," she said. "Quistis is going with them, but I've taken a position at Trabia."

"Wow," she said. "Is there any way I can get in touch with Dr. Kadowaki? It's urgent."

"Unfortunately, I can't give out her personal information, but I can pass a message along for her to contact you," Xu said.

"Please."

Rinoa hung up the phone, that nagging feeling still in her gut. Something had happened. Something wasn't right with her, or with someone she loved, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was, outside of it just being a holdover from her nightmare.

Around her wrist, the Odine bangle sizzled painlessly against her skin. Arcs of blueish light twined around the cool metal and crawled up the back of her hand, down her arm, over her fingers. The bangle had done this before, but not quite so brilliantly, and only when she'd been in emotional or physical distress. Though anxious, she wasn't in an intense enough state for either to be the cause.

Her next call was to Laguna. She got Kiros instead.

"He's en route to a conference at the moment," Kiros said. "No need to worry."

"What about Ellone?" Rinoa asked. "Have you heard from her?"

"Still out in the field with Almasy."

"If you hear from either of them, tell them to call me as soon as possible."

"Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, I just need to make sure  _they're_  fine."

"All is well, as far as I know."

She texted Selphie, who had been holed up in her apartment with Irvine for two weeks. They'd been inseparable since reconnecting in Dollet and had scarcely left, except to replenish Selphie's candy supply and look after the kids when Rinoa needed it. If history repeated itself, they would have a three month run of total bliss before they started fighting and Irvine returned to wherever it was he went when they weren't together.

Rinoa worked her way through friends and family, one by one until she got to Zell.

They hadn't spoken since he'd left her in Dollet. It had been two weeks, and they'd only exchanged a text or two in that time. He didn't always answer and when he did, his replies were terse, her requests to talk denied.

Rinoa felt his absence, particularly in the evening, when Ella clamored for him, and Ari asked, "Sell?" in a plaintive little voice as he toddled through the house in search of him.

She bit her lip and typed a message, hoping he would respond this time.

_Are you okay? Please check in ASAP._

There was no response, but Selphie messaged back a minute later.

_Hunky dory. Irvy's making me lunch. He's so sweet. I think this time, things will be better, because guess what? He proposed!_

Rinoa frowned at her phone and dropped her head into her hand. For Selphie's sake, she hoped Irvine was serious.

When Zell didn't message back, she called. His phone rang once then went to voice mail, so she was sure she'd been dismissed, which meant Zell was fine. She left a message anyway. A second later, he texted back.

_I'm fine._

_Can we talk? Please?_

_Busy. Hug the kids for me._

_Come by. Hug them yourself._

_Rin, don't._

She tossed her phone on the desk and put her hands over her face. Her freshly healed nose was still tender and she dropped her hands into her lap and stared at her reflection in the computer monitor in despair. In the two years since Squall had died, she'd never been alone until now, and now that she needed a friend or at least a voice of reason, there was no one she could talk to.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Leonhart?" Melane asked from the door. "You look like you're about to cry."

"Rough morning," Rinoa murmured to her reflection.

"Can I bring you anything?"

"Thank you, no," Rinoa said. "I just need a minute."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, thank you."

"Is it about your boyfriend?" Melane asked. "The cute one with the tattoo?"

Boyfriend? Was that what people thought? Rinoa supposed some might see it that way. Up until two weeks ago, they'd shared a residence, spent time together out in public. Of course people would assume they were a couple.

"It's about a lot of things," Rinoa said.

"Did you two have a fight? He hasn't been by at all."

"We're not together," Rinoa said. "And I'd rather not talk about personal things."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to pry," Melane said. "So, if you two aren't dating, is he single?"

"You should ask him that," Rinoa said. Her patience ran short as the woman didn't get the hint she wasn't up for a chat. "Can you do me a favor? There's a box of new releases in the store room. Would you mind pricing them so they can go on the shelf tomorrow?"

"Sure. I'll get right on it."

As the woman left, Rinoa rose to her feet and shut off the computer. She collected her purse and made a split second decision to go see Zell in person. They couldn't leave things like this. They'd grown too close to let their friendship end so bitterly.

The Garage was closed when she arrived, and when she peered at the sign, saw that it was only open till noon on Tuesdays. She peered in through the window to see if he was still inside, but all the lights were out. From there, she walked the block to his house and knocked on the door.

Nearly a minute passed without a response. As she was about to turn away, the door opened and Zell peered out.

There were smears of paint on his arms and his chin, his hair unstyled and held out of his eyes by an elastic hair tie wrapped around the top strands. His face was a mask with no expression as he looked at her from the gap. Rinoa tried her best to smile.

"S'up?"

"Can we talk? Please?"

"Rin, I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

"Look, I might be cracking up, and I need to talk to someone because I don't know what I saw this morning, but I'm terrified and Dr. Kadowaki's gone and can't see me, Selphie's busy banging Irvine and Laguna's at some conference, and I sure as hell can't talk to my dad," she gushed. "Please. I don't know who else to talk to, and if I mean anything to you - "

Zell opened the door wider and ushered her inside. The front room was clear of all furniture and decoration and it smelled heavily of fresh paint. Drop cloths lined the stone floor and there were buckets of paint in the small kitchen.

She followed him to the small den at the back, which was a mess. One side of the room was being used for storage, the other side as a space to do small engine repairs. Parts and tools were spread out across a work table, neat little piles of screws and other things Rinoa couldn't identify were sorted by size.

"Doing a little remodeling?" she asked.

"A lot," he said. "House is old, Ma let some issues go. Plumbing, roof. It's a work in progress."

He nodded to the only chair in the room, then took a seat on a small end table near the wall.

"So, what's going on?"

Rinoa told him in detail about the dream, and the hallucinations that followed, then about the lingering feeling that someone was in danger or that maybe something had happened and she didn't know it yet.

The Odine bangle on her wrist continued to flicker and pulse against her skin. Talking about it didn't help. The more she said, the more that odd sensation in her gut grew. Zell listened passively as he watched the thin sparks of light arc from bangle to skin.

"When was the last time you took that thing off?" he asked.

"Not since the last one broke."

"Maybe you just need to go blast the hell out of some bite bugs," he said. "Probably make you feel better, either way."

That made a strange sort of sense. Pent up magic could have caused the dreams and the anxiety, though in her experience, it had never expressed itself this way. It was long overdue now that he pointed it out.

"Maybe you're right."

They sat in silence for nearly a minute before Zell hunched forward and looked at the floor.

"I miss you, Rin," he said. "The kids..."

"They ask about you all the time," she said. "They miss you so much."

"I think about them all the time."

"Ari thinks his name is Dude, thanks to you," she said with a small smile. "Ella's started calling him that."

A smile ghosted over his lips and he nodded at the floor.

"Maybe I'll swing by this weekend," he said. "Hang out with them for a bit."

"They'd love that," Rinoa said.

"What about you?"

Rinoa sighed dramatically. "I suppose I can tolerate you for a while."

"Serious answer, please," he said.

"I would love it," she said. "You know I would. Friday sound good?"

"I've got a date Friday," he said, but without much enthusiasm.

"Angie?"

"Yeah."

"Saturday, then. Bring Angie if you want."

"I probably won't. She's kinda awkward around kids," he said. "I should get back to work."

But he didn't get up. He stayed where he was, his eyes fixed on the floor. Rinoa stood, dropped a hand to his shoulder and kissed the top of his head.

There were things she could have said, about Dollet, about her own feelings, about what could eventually be between them in time, but she didn't say them. If there was a chance he'd find happiness with Angie, Rinoa would not give him false hope or stand in his way.

* * *

Ellone sat beside Squall as they approached the rendezvous point with the Ragnarok. They would arrive within the hour, and preparations were being made for transport to Esthar, where he would be cared for until he was strong enough to go home to his family.

That would have to be handled delicately. Rinoa had finally begun to pick up the pieces. Squall knew nothing of Ari. According to Laguna, there might be something going on between Rinoa and Zell. If there was, that would only make it more complicated.

On the bed, Squall was awake, but his eyes were fixed on some point far away. When she spoke, he didn't always respond. Sometimes, he was lucid, other times he didn't make sense. Ellone told herself there would be time to worry later and she should be grateful he was still alive.

Hours after her confrontation with Thalia, Ellone was still furious and filled with a kind of blood lust she'd never experienced before. Thalia's crimes were written all over Squall's body – scars, bruises, missing pieces – his bones jagged under thin, pale skin, and it told the story of abuse and neglect so profound, killing her would not be enough.

She'd never known the desire to make another suffer, to wish to truly wound and maim someone or to take their life. After reading Odine's file on the woman, Ellone had been sympathetic. Thalia been a girl with a power she couldn't control, tested and manipulated and experimented on to the point of no return. Now, as she surveyed what Thalia had done to Squall, any kinship she might have felt was erased by the story Squall's body told.

"If she's still alive, Squall, I'm going to kill her."

His eyelids fluttered at the ceiling and his sunken chest rose and fell.

"You're not a killer, Elle."

"For this, I am," Ellone swore. "For what she did to you."

"I wish I knew if you were really here," he said. "But you've been with me all along."

"When I could get in."

"I heard you."

Ellone lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles.

"Edea," he said.

It wasn't a question, but not quite a statement either.

"She's safe, as far as I know," Ellone said. "The White SeeDs are looking after her."

"She needs to know."

Ellone moved closer and turned Squall's face away from whatever held his attention on the ceiling. His eyes had gone wild, fearful. Ellone reached out to stroke his matted and tangled hair and he flinched like she'd struck him.

"What does she need to know?"

"Cid."

"She knows," Ellone assured him, but of what she couldn't say.

Bony fingers curled around her wrist and squeezed harder than she imagined he was capable of. His expression was that of a frustrated child without the words to articulate his needs. The rise and fall of his chest increased and he blinked at her rapidly, his lips working as he struggled to explain.

"No."

"Shh. It's okay," she promised. "You're okay."

He wriggled on the bed, pushed himself halfway into a sitting position, panting with the effort, then dropped back down. A low growl rumbled in his throat, followed by a long, thin hiss. One fist smacked the mattress and the other dug into the flesh of Ellone's wrist.

"It's okay, Squall," Ellone promised. "She's not here. It's just me. You're safe."

It was a mantra she kept repeating until he stilled on the bed and his breathing evened.

"We're going to get you back on your feet," Ellone promised. "Then, we'll take you home to your family."

He turned his face to the wall and shook his head.

"They're not mine anymore."

"Yes, they are Squall," Ellone said. "Rinoa misses you so much."

"No."

After that, he stopped talking and fell into a sound sleep. Ellone sat with him, watching the rise and fall of his chest under the sheet until they made landfall on a rocky beach not far from the Orphanage. She watched the medics wheel Squall off the transport and wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders against the breeze.

Overhead, the sky was a steely gray and heavy with the promise of rain. She smelled it on the wind. It had once been a scent she associated with her days at the Orphanage, that peculiar blend of brine and petrichor, but now she would forever associate it with darker things.

Seifer stepped up beside her, the strap of his bag slung across his chest, and he laid an arm around her shoulders as she watched Squall be wheeled inside the Ragnarok.

"You kicked ass today," he said. "Took guts to go after her like that. I know you would have if I hadn't stopped you."

It was a huge compliment coming from him, but it physically hurt to hear it. Anger took all the punch out of his praise.

He pressed a kiss to her temple and it took everything in her not to cry.

"You did good," he promised and took her bag, slung the strap over his shoulder and slipped his hand into hers. "Come on. Let's get him settled in and then you're taking a nap."

Ellone didn't argue, but she doubted she'd be able to sleep. As weary as she was, she was too keyed up and too worried about Squall. He would heal physically, but she had her doubts about his mental health. He was much more sensitive than he let on and the damage Thalia had inflicted went much deeper than the scars she'd left behind on his skin. He would need to be rebuilt from the ground up.

Seifer didn't let go of her hand until they boarded the Ragnarok. It was a simple thing, a show of support, but it meant more to her than he knew. As she watched him give orders to the team, she saw less of the arrogant and entitled man she'd reacquainted herself with two years ago, and more of the confident, driven leader he could have been for SeeD.

Either he'd changed in the last two years, or her perception of him had changed. It was tough to tell which, but she had always believed his bravado a mask he wore to hide his vulnerable side. He was not a man inclined to kindness or compassion, but she'd seen flickers of it here and there, moments where he showed it through small, seemingly insignificant gestures.

Maybe, he was finally growing up.

Maybe, what she was seeing was the real Seifer Almasy.

* * *

In his bunk aboard the Ragnarok, Seifer sipped a glass of whiskey, his back against the wall and knees drawn toward his chest. Unable to sleep after such a long day, he should have welcomed the chance to rest, but he didn't. The alcohol would ward off bad dreams if he consumed enough. The hangover wasn't worth it, but he poured another measure and sat in contemplation of Squall's sorry state.

He'd witnessed all of two minutes of Laguna's reunion with Squall before he'd had to leave. Laguna's weeping had been too much to take. Not because he judged the man for being sentimental, but because he realized there was no one who would have greeted him that way if he'd been in Squall's shoes. He doubted anyone would have looked.

What came next, they would discuss once they got to Esthar. For now, Squall's health was of greater importance, even when faced with the possibility that Blackheart was still alive. Time would tell, but there was a good chance she'd drowned. If she hadn't, she would make herself known soon enough.

Seifer poured his third glass as a soft knock at the door echoed through the room.

"Come in," he called.

Ellone slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She leaned back against it, her eyes on the glass of whiskey in Seifer's hand. She said nothing as he lifted the glass to his lips, took a swallow, lowered it, and watched her.

Courage was not something that could be taught. Her actions had been misguided and driven by anger, but Seifer could not deny she had guts to spare. Over the years, he'd seen bigger, stronger men run from smaller threats than Thalia Blackheart. Had Seifer not stopped her, Ellone would have jumped.

And Seifer would have jumped after her.

"They get Squall settled in?" he asked.

"He's sleeping."

"Laguna stop crying?"

"No," Ellone said. "Don't you dare judge him for that."

"I'm not."

He took a sip of his whiskey as Ellone pushed away from the door and slid into the bunk beside him.

"You should be sleeping," he scolded.

She took the glass from his hand and swallowed the remainder in one go.

"Help yourself," he said and snatched the glass from her hand. "And since when do you drink?"

"I think the occasion warrants it, don't you?"

"Suppose it does."

He lifted the bottle and drank his share directly from it, as Ellone closed her eyes and settled back against the wall. Tears slipped from beneath her closed lids and down her cheeks. Seifer set the bottle aside and hooked a finger under her chin, turning her face to his. Her chin quivered, her face crumpled and Seifer pulled her into his chest and let her fall apart.

"Quit it," he said into her hair. "Quit cryin'."

After searching for just shy of two years, it must have been cathartic to let go. It didn't last long, but her sobbing was silent and intense. The harder she cried, the tighter Seifer's grip and when her tears ran dry, he didn't let go.

"You should get some rest," he said. "You're over-tired."

She ground at her eyes with the heels of her hands and nodded in agreement. He released her and shifted back into the pillows and opened his arms to her.

"Come here."

Ellone watched him, one hand pressed to the mattress. Uncertainty replaced her sorrow.

Her caution stung. After endless days and nights of sharing rooms and of cleaning her up after a bad encounter with Thalia while inside Squall's head, she didn't trust him.

"Or don't," he said and dropped his arm. "Either way, go to bed."

As he closed his eyes, the linens rustled, the bed dipped and Ellone eased into the space beside him. She let her head rest against his folded elbow, close but not close enough for Seifer's liking. He reached out, clasped the back of her neck, and tucked her against his chest.

She was asleep in minutes. The slow rise and fall of her chest as her breathing deepened and the feel of her pressed so close was more of a comfort than he expected. Gently, so as not to wake her, he brushed his lips over her forehead and let his own eyes fall shut as a steady, but now familiar buzzing filled his head.

As he was drawn into dreams with her, it wasn't Squall's experience he saw but her own.

It was the location Seifer recognized first, then the small girl strapped to a gurney. Velcro restraints wrapped around her wrists and ankles, a rubberized mouthpiece clamped between her teeth. Wires and tubes extended from her limbs and a series of monitors beside the bed displayed indecipherable graphs and charts.

Tears slipped from young Ellone's closed eyes and her hands clenched tight as she trembled with what Seifer assumed was pain. A thin, close lipped whine came from her throat, and she exhaled in short bursts of breath through her nose.

"Pain threshold," the older Ellone said. She stood on the other side of the gurney, watching her childhood face contort with silent agony. "They did this for hours, to see if I could connect while under stress."

Little Ellone's mouth opened and her shrill scream ripped Seifer's heart in two. She thrashed on the mattress, her wild eyes shimmering with tears. He could handle pretty much anything, but not this. Not this.

The room flickered like the power was about to fail, then the scene changed. The younger Ellone lay curled on her side in a narrow bunk, needle marks in the crook of her arms and on the backs of her hands. There were no toys, no amenities to make it pleasant for a child's stay.

"Elle-"

"Just watch."

The scene changed, and Ellone was in a large, empty room with a Belhelmel. She dodged its attacks, panting heavily as it chased her, and there was nowhere for her to hide. In the booth above, Odine shouted orders at her.

"Use your mind, Ellone! You can stop zis attack, but you must use your power."

"I can't," she cried. "It only works on people!"

"Monsters don't have memories the way we do," the older Ellone explained as the younger one ran short of breath and energy and balled herself into a corner. "It doesn't work on them."

"I figured that was sorta obvious," Seifer said.

Across the room, little Ellone screamed as the Belhelmel turned furious and spun toward her. Its blade cut deep into her arm and blood streamed in rivers down her arm. Beside him, the grown-up Ellone rubbed the same spot on her arm. Under her fingers, a scar Seifer had never noticed.

Ellone took him through a series of things, of having to try to use her power against an Estharian soldier in full uniform to stop his attacks, and of spending hours upon hours hooked up to machines as her brain waves were charted and mapped and analyzed. Of attempting escape, only to be locked in a dark room for days. Some of it was painful, some of it wasn't, but not a single thing that had been done to her could be considered okay.

In Seifer's mind, there was no justification for doing this to a child, and he vowed that some night, not long from now, Odine would leave his office for the night and never be seen again. Maybe some hunters might stumble upon his bones out in the desert some years later, maybe they wouldn't.

Seifer didn't care about invaluable research or scientific progress. If this was the cost, it wasn't worth it.

Everything shifted again and when Seifer's vision cleared, he was back in the bunk on the Ragnarok. Ellone was still in his arms, but she was awake, watching him.

Seifer was all too aware of her now, of how small and fragile she was, but he was also aware that she'd showed him one of the most painful and terrifying parts of her life. For Seifer, it was significant that she'd taken down that wall. It was a show of trust and that  _meant_  something.

He combed his fingers through her hair and wondered how someone so small could be so damn strong.

"I was a mess when Laguna found me," she said. "He sent me home to Raine and by that time, she was already sick and very pregnant. And then she died, and Squall and I went to stay with Edea, but I didn't fall apart until about a month after I was there. I had a nightmare, and I just lost it..."

She lowered her eyes from his face, and with a soft sigh, seemed to collapse.

"Elle. Look at me."

When she did, he saw all the sorrow and regret in her eyes was as raw as a fresh wound. On pure impulse, he angled his head down and kissed her as if he could steal away all her bad memories, as if it could make up for her stolen childhood, her lost family and her pain. He'd never needed to do that for anyone before, but he wanted to chase it all away, to make it  _stop_.

It was like throwing explosives on a bonfire. Zero to sixty in five seconds, a heavy and hot pulse in his veins that was less about lust than it should have been. She kissed him back, her arms twined around his neck and Seifer's hands began to wander, his touch informed by her reaction to it.

When his fingers found their way under the hem of her shirt, she pushed him away. Seifer wasn't sure why she'd stopped him. There was no annoyance or fear in her gaze, no sign he'd done something wrong or had gone too far.

"I'm not saying no," she said. "Just, not now."

Seifer didn't question it. With a shaky sigh, he settled into the pillow and let a hand rest on her hip. She gave no explanation or excuse, but she didn't leave, either.

"Hey Elle?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm very fond of you."

Her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

"I know."


	15. Chapter 15

15

* * *

According to the Palace Physician, Squall's heart was weakened to the point of near failure. The administration of potions, fluids and plenty of nutrients would aid in reversing the damage. Even so, there was still a very real chance that Squall could die. All his organs were damaged in some way, and his muscles had atrophied to the point where he couldn't hold his own head up without assistance.

He'd gone into captivity at a lean but muscular 190 pounds of muscle and had come out weighing only 135. A few pounds more, and he would have passed the point of no return. They'd gotten there just in time. He wouldn't have survived another round of Thalia's game of feast or famine. As it was, Squall's condition was critical, his chances of pulling through were anyone's guess.

The first two days were tense. Ellone barely left his bedside, even to sleep. The first night in Esthar, Seifer carried her out and put her to bed when she was too tired to keep her eyes open. The second night, he slept in the chair beside her, snoring lightly as Ellone watched the slow, uneven rise and fall of Squall's breathing.

Ellone tried her best to untangle the clumps of knots in his overlong hair and spent hours with a comb and a bottle of conditioner with no success. It hurt him more than it helped, and Ellone gave in when Laguna produced an electric razor and shaved it all off.

Underneath all the twists of tangled hair was a rash and a series of small sores on the back of his head. Ellone tended to them in silence as Laguna watched with tears in his eyes.

With his hair gone, Squall's frailty was even more apparent. His sunken eyes were too big, his cheekbones too prominent. To Ellone, he looked a like a baby bird without feathers.

The first few days, he was asleep more often than not. Ellone stayed at his side as much as possible, curled up with a book when he was asleep or sitting quietly, listening to the sound of his erratic heartbeat on the monitor.

Seifer brought her food that she only picked at, and he stayed with them in the evenings. Sometimes, he sat at the small table and worked on a project for Kiros, other times he brought a book of his own. Twice, they played Triple Triad, but when Seifer realized Ellone was a more skilled player than he was, he threw down his cards and refused to play again.

They didn't talk much. Not even when Laguna showed up with his terrible jokes and bags of pudding cups in various flavors in attempt to get Squall to eat something. Squall would always refuse before drifting off to sleep again and Laguna would wind up eating all the tapioca and butterscotch, staring mournfully at his spoon for lack of anything else to do.

Gradually, Squall's condition improved. He gained weight and the color came back to his cheeks, but he didn't talk much. Most of the time, he looked at the ceiling or stared in confusion at the room around him, as if he were trying to puzzle out where he was. Sometimes, he was afraid of things that weren't there, or would wake up screaming, as if Thalia's hold on him remained.

Thalia's fate was still a mystery, though it became less of one when the two soldiers Seifer had left with her sailboat were found dead. One had drowned, the other had fallen down the stairs to the deck and had broken his neck. Both could have been accidents – unfortunate luck, but Ellone didn't believe that, but if Thalia was alive, she had not made herself known any other way.

Seifer poured over the documents that had been found on the sailboat, but there wasn't much information in them. They appeared to be forged account ledgers, but there was also a pile of childlike drawings of spiders and monsters and lightning bolts. Ellone flipped through them over and over again as if the answers could be found in the crayon sketches, but all she saw was an echo of a lost little girl, destroyed and turned monstrous by her own gift.

From time to time, as they sat quietly in Squall's room, Ellone would feel Seifer's eyes on her. When she looked up, he would cast his eyes away, back to the pages in front of him and she would inevitably think about the way he'd kissed her aboard the Ragnarok. Her heart would race and her cheeks would flush as she imagined what could have happened if she'd let it.

No one had ever kissed her that way before. The others, all three of them, had been cautious and sweet, and there was something to be said for that, but not one of them had ever kissed her so recklessly. Had she not been bone tired and emotional at the time, it might have been fun to find out where that recklessness led.

But now was not the time. With her family around and her dedication to being there for Squall, there was little opportunity to discuss it. They were careful to relate to one another only in a professional manner, especially in front of Squall, though he was out of it most of the time. Day by day, the tension built, and at times, it was so thick it was almost palpable.

Even Laguna noticed.

"Boy, I bet you two were at each other's necks the whole time, huh?" Laguna asked. "You act like you can't stand each other."

"You know what they say about too much of a good thing," Ellone said.

Ellone shared a glance with Seifer behind Laguna's back and stifled a smile.

"Do I need to put you two in a get-along shirt?" Laguna asked. "I got one for me and Dr. Odine, but he threatened to break my shins if I tried to make him wear it. No sense of humor."

Seifer's expression darkened at the mention of Odine. He'd had little love for the man before Ellone showed him her days as his subject. Now, every time Odine's name came up, there was a certain hardness that came to his eyes that was not unlike the look he got when Ultimecia was mentioned. They didn't discuss what she'd showed him, but she could tell it was on his mind from time to time.

The second week, Squall was eating solid foods with assistance, but he still refused Laguna's pudding cups. It was difficult for him to lift hand to mouth, and Ellone helped out when she could. He'd gained ten pounds, but it didn't show in the gauntness of his cheeks or in his wasted limbs.

A physical therapist came but Squall would curl up into a ball and behave as if he was about to be beaten and he made no progress beyond being able to sit up by himself. He ignored the psychologist Laguna had hired and spent sessions with his eyes closed, his hands balled into fists and never said a word in response to the man's questions.

Ellone was at a loss. Nothing she did seemed to help.

Frustrated and tired, she retreated to the small atrium in the middle of the Palace to cry for Squall and his stubbornness by herself. What he needed, she couldn't give him. There was nothing she could say or do to erase what had been done. Laguna told her to be patient, but patience was hard when the only improvement she saw was the return of his appetite and a bit of color in his cheeks.

Seifer found her beside the fountain and sat, legs splayed out and gave a tired grunt as he settled his back against the damp stone.

"I want my brother back," Ellone said to the surface of the water, where the ripples distorted her reflection. "I thought saving him would be enough."

"Give him some time, Elle," he said. "He's been through hell."

"I know that," she said. "Believe me. I know. It's just... This is even worse than not knowing in some ways. I don't even know if he's really in there anymore. He won't talk, he won't listen, he won't try to help himself get better. I'm starting to think he's gone, that saving him wasn't the best thing we could have done for him, that if he died instead it would all be over -"

Seifer put his hand over hers and squeezed.

"Stop," he said.

"What if he's too broken to come back?"

"He might be, El," he said. "He might never be the same, and that's not his fault."

"I feel like I failed him," she said. "Like, if I'd looked closer or tried harder, we could have found him sooner."

"He's alive," Seifer said. "He's fucked up, but he's breathing, and two weeks isn't going to fix him."

"I know."

Ellone dropped her chin onto her folded arms and closed her eyes. She breathed in the scent of chlorinated water and the nearby wisteria and wished she could just cry out all her frustration and anger and sorrow. Squall didn't need what she had to offer. He didn't want it, and all she wanted to do was put all his pieces back together and make that haunted look in his eyes disappear.

"Have you told him about the kid yet?" Seifer asked.

"I don't know how," she said. "He barely pays attention and any time I bring Rinoa up he shuts down or starts reciting articles from the SeeD manual."

"Maybe we need to take him home," Seifer said. "Let him see for himself."

"He doesn't believe  _we're_  real," Ellone said. "If we're not real to him, they won't be either. And Rinoa has so much to deal with already."

"She might be what he needs, El," Seifer said. He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "That and a swift, hard kick in the ass. That PT guy is a wuss. Squall says no, he throws his hands in the air and clocks out for the day."

Ellone looked at him then, remembering how tough a teacher he was. No excuses, no mercy.

"Maybe you should be his therapist," she said with a soft smile. "Hyne knows, he's not listening to anyone else."

"Maybe," he said. His eyes fell on her and his expression softened. "What about you? How are you holding up?"

"Mostly, I just want to cry," she said. "Every time I look at him, I see him the way he was when he was three. Before I had to leave, before SeeD. He was so sweet back then. The more I think about it, about Cid and everything else, the angrier I get. And then I start thinking about all the others. You. Quistis. About what you guys could have been if they hadn't turned you into mercenaries to pay down Cid's debt."

Seifer shifted toward her and dragged a hand over her hair until it reached the nape of her neck. He clasped it lightly and turned her face to his.

"No sense in thinking about all the what ifs," he said. "I don't know about Squall, but I doubt I would have turned out any different. From what I remember, I was kind of an asshole as a kid."

Ellone smiled into her arm as his fingers massaged the back of her neck. The tension melted out of her as his thumb moved in circles and worked the knots out of her muscles.

"Maybe a little bit," she said. "But you were sweet back then, in your own way. And you laughed more than the others. Always knew exactly what you wanted."

"I bet there was hell to pay when I didn't get it."

"Everyone knew when you were unhappy," she said.

"So, not much has changed."

"Are you happy now?" she asked. "With your life as it is? With the things you've done?"

"More or less," he said. "There are choices I wish I hadn't made, but everyone has regrets, El. You already know the past can't be changed. I don't waste my time thinking about how it could have been different. I'd go crazy if I did."

She supposed he was right, but that didn't change the longing for a different future for all of them. What good was her gift if she couldn't fix the past?

"I just wanted better for all of you," she said. "I wish I could have changed that."

"But you can't," he said. "And wishing for it now doesn't help Squall. Or you."

"I know."

Seifer squeezed the back of her neck and released her. Ellone returned her attention to the fountain. Her vision blurred, refocused, then dissolved into a whorl of color. A brilliant pain shot through her head and she cried out as it blinded her.

"Elle?"

She couldn't answer him. The pain had stolen her voice and as darkness encroached on her vision she blinked at Seifer in confusion. The face looking back at her was pale and sickly, his lips chapped and blood streaming from his lips. The light faded from the day as if a false twilight had settled in, the plants shriveled and turned brown, the water in the fountain went stagnant and still. Spiderwebs coated every surface and fluttered in the breeze.

Behind Seifer, a woman. Pale hair, silver eyes. She dragged a hand over Seifer's head and caressed his cheek like a lover. Her nails left ribbons of blood on his skin.

"Thalia."

"You should have killed me when you had the chance," Thalia said. "But you couldn't, could you? Because we're not that different, you and me. I am what you could have become."

"We're nothing alike," Ellone said. Her vision blurred, smeared with black on the edges. "I could never do what you've done."

"You're too afraid to do what I've done," Thalia said. "You spent your whole life hiding from what you are, but you got a taste of it, what it feels like to hate."

Pain flared through her head again, as if something inside her skull was trying to get out.

"I don't hate you," Ellone hissed. "I feel sorry for you."

"That's a lie," Thalia said. "You hate me for destroying your precious baby brother. You hate me because I'm stronger than you are. Don't lie to yourself, Elle."

Ellone shot to her feet and launched herself at Thalia. She didn't have a weapon, she was half incapacitated, but she didn't care. She wanted Thalia dead, for real this time. She wanted payback for Squall, for the torment and pain she'd inflicted and continued to inflict.

Hard, strong arms caught her around the waist and Ellone howled as she fought against them, unwilling to give up her chance a second time.

"Elle, stop!" Seifer growled. "There's nothing there."

At the sound of his voice, her vision cleared and she found herself caught up in Seifer's fierce grip, staring at nothing but bright sunshine and bright green plants. Thalia was gone. The spiderwebs were gone and the day was bright and sunny again.

"She was here."

"No, El," Seifer said. "You checked out for a few minutes."

"I didn't. She was here."

"You were gone."

Ellone sagged against him and shivered. What he said must have been true. She wasn't sure what had happened, or how it happened. Thalia had not been able to get in her head or make her see anything that wasn't there for long, but for a few minutes, the illusion had been very, very real.

"She's not dead," Ellone breathed. "She's not dead, Seifer."

He let her go and turned her around to face him. His frown deepened and he reached out, touched her upper lip and his fingers came away red with blood.

"Let's go get you cleaned up," he said. "We'll worry about her later."

In her room, Seifer sat her on the edge of the bed. He went to the bathroom and returned with a damp wash cloth and crouched in front of her, taking it upon himself to wipe away the blood.

There was no pain, but Ellone couldn't stop shaking. Seifer's hands were gentle, but his eyes were troubled.

When he was done, he sat back on his heels as Ellone chewed her lip and tried to get her trembling under control.

"If she's alive, you're not safe," he said.

"Neither are you."

"Maybe not," he agreed. "Probably safe to assume we're both on her shit list."

"What about Squall?"

"There's not much more she can do to him," Seifer said. "She got what she wanted."

"Did she?" Ellone wondered. "Cid's been dead for over a year. This isn't about money anymore."

Seifer nodded and tossed the washcloth aside. He sat on the bed beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders. Ellone closed her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her temple. It was a kind gesture and Ellone welcomed it.

"We'll get our chance to take her down," he said. "She's over-confident. She'll make a mistake."

"We have to find her first," Ellone said. She paused and dropped her eyes to the floor. "Am I like her?"

Seifer's arm tightened around and he brought her into an careful embrace.

"You're nothing like her."

"How do you know? How can you be sure?"

"If you have to ask, you're not."

Ellone wasn't so sure, but she didn't get a chance to think about it before Seifer took her face between his palms and kissed her. It was as unexpected, possessive yet gentler and less urgent than the kiss aboard the Ragnarok.

"You're not like her," he murmured when he broke away to press his lips next to her ear. "You'll never be like her."

Ellone shivered as warm breath tickled her neck as his mouth moved lower, the touch of his lips light but his hands demanding as he pulled her closer.

Now she trembled for a different reason.

It was escape she needed, to feel something besides fear and worry and anger. He could give her refuge if she let him, even if it was only for a while.

He broke away and leaned his forehead against hers, his hands in her hair.

"Probably shouldn't do this here," he whispered. "Unless you want me dead."

"Laguna wouldn't kill you. He likes you enough to pretend nothing's going on," Ellone promised. Then she smiled. "Though, I hear Kiros has some rather creative uses for pliers. But don't worry, the last guy I was seeing made a full recovery."

"That's not a mood killer at all."

"I'm teasing," she said. "Mostly."

"You're awful."

He bit his lip as he looked back at her, too handsome for his own good, and so self-conscious, he looked like a scolded schoolboy. The combination was sort of irresistible, dangerously adorable, and oh-so attractive.

Ellone brushed her fingers over his cheek, a thumb over his bottom lip and recognized the flare of  _want_  in his eyes. No one had ever looked at her with such raw and intense need before and she ached to find out what that meant.

"Are you sure you want to cross this line?" he asked.

"We've already crossed it," she said. "Haven't we?"

He pushed his fingers through her hair and kissed her so sweetly, it seemed incongruous with the man she knew him to be. One hand slid up her side, fingers splayed against her back as his mouth moved over her neck.

"Come home with me," he said. "I'll make you dinner."

Ellone hesitated. She didn't want to leave the Palace, in case something happened, but it had been two weeks and Squall was no longer in critical condition, nor was he in danger of relapse. It was Thalia she feared, and how easily she might find her way inside.

"She wouldn't be stupid enough to try," he said as if reading her mind. "And you need a night off. We can get a bottle of wine, hang out, watch a shitty movie. You can sleep in the guest room if you want."

"By cook, you mean take out?" she asked. "Sandwiches?"

"No," he said, offended. "I'll have you know, I'm a great cook."

"I feel like I should be afraid," Ellone said. "Is this going to end with a visit from the fire department?"

Seifer gripped the back of her neck lightly and pressed his lips to her jaw.

"You ask too many questions," he said. "Say yes."

All of this was a bad idea, but it was hard to resist his cocky, yet hopeful insistence or the way his touch sent a riot of need through her body.

"Aren't you afraid I'm going to change my mind?" she wondered.

"No," he said. "If you change your mind, so be it."

"Okay. I'll have dinner with you."

* * *

As easy as it would have been to lock the door and throw caution to the wind, Seifer had a few things he really needed to wrap up before the end of the day. If he got started, he wouldn't want to leave and Kiros would come looking for him. The last place he wanted to be found was in a compromising position when he was supposed to be working.

Five years ago, he might have done it anyway, for the thrill of it, for no other reason than that Ellone was Squall's sister. He would have happily risked a busted lip, just to see the look on Squall's face, but circumstances had changed. After everything they'd been through, after two years of sharing rooms and months upon months of each other's company, he genuinely liked and respected her.

Becoming physically involved was dangerous, and he risked more than a black eye by going there. For the first time in a long time, he  _cared_. And caring about someone besides himself terrified him. It meant she had the power to hurt him.

Yet he looked forward to the end of the day with a giddy sort of anticipation he seldom experienced. It wasn't so different from the thrill he got before a good fight, and as the hour grew later, he found himself annoyed with the handful of things left to do before he could leave.

The last item on his list wasn't part of the job, but it needed to be done. He messaged Kiros and locked his office for the day, then rode the elevator up to the Presidential suite.

Squall was as Seifer had left him that morning – half propped up against pillows, his eyes focused on something a thousand miles away. Two weeks of nourishment had done him some good, but he was still too thin and it showed in his hollow cheeks and the bird-like arms that rested lifelessly at his sides.

Seifer dragged a chair to the side of the bed and sat facing his childhood rival. He wasn't sure what was worse – Squall's physical condition or the distant and haunted look in his eyes. His physical condition would improve. It was his mind Seifer wasn't so sure about. More than two weeks of safety, and he was still wary that everything around him would disappear, that everyone had the potential to hurt him.

"You still look like shit, Leonhart," Seifer said. "I hear you're being an idiot about your PT."

Squall's face turned toward him but his eyes remained fixed on the wall straight ahead of him for a moment before they followed and focused on Seifer.

"Eventually, you're gonna go home," Seifer said. "I sure as hell don't want to have to carry your ass through the front door."

Squall said nothing, but his eyes stayed on Seifer, listening.

"You want your kid to see you like this?" Seifer asked.

"No."

"Do you want to go home?"

"Thalia... She... I don't know what I did," Squall murmured. "I don't know."

Seifer had a hunch what that meant, but it didn't matter. If it had kept him alive, no one would blame him for a moment of weakness, real or imagined. It would be damn hard to tell anyway, especially if Squall himself didn't know for sure.

"I doubt Rin will care," Seifer said. "She'll be too overcome with joy that you don't actually reside in the SeeD cemetery to give a shit, whatever happened."

"You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly," Seifer said. "You're not to blame for what did or didn't happen."

Squall's mouth pressed into a thin line and his jaw clenched. At his sides, his hands curled into loose fists.

"Now, you're going to get up and walk to the door," Seifer said. "No excuses."

"No."

"I'll help you," Seifer said, ignoring his stubborn tone. He lowered the rail on the bed, lifted the sheet and held back a grimace at the sight of Squall's scrawny legs. "It's fifteen steps from here to the door. That's all. Fifteen steps."

"I can't."

Seifer eased Squall into a sitting position and slid his legs over the edge of the bed.

"On your feet, Leonhart," Seifer barked. "Now."

"Why are you doing this?" Squall asked.

"Because you won't do it on your own," Seifer said. "Now stand up."

He helped Squall to his feet and Squall swayed, grabbed hold of the bed rail, breathing heavily as he tried to stay upright.

"Hold onto my arm," Seifer said. "Don't worry about falling. Just take one step at a time."

Squall's grip was weak and Seifer had to put one arm around his back as Squall shuffled one foot forward, gritting his teeth with the effort.

All he needed was a little tough love. Seifer was both thrilled and regretful that he had to be the one to do it, but he would watch Squall struggle a thousand times over before he'd let him waste away any longer. If he were in Squall's shoes, he'd want someone to bust his ass and make him do it, no matter how belligerent or resistant he was.

"Good," Seifer said. "Now take another. You've got fourteen steps left."

It was slow going. Halfway there, Squall paled and his legs buckled, and Seifer was forced to hold him upright as he panted into Seifer's shoulder.

"Six left," Seifer said. "You got this. Just six more and you can rest."

It took forever, Seifer acting half cheerleader, half drill sergeant as he coached Squall through it one step at a time. As he reached his last step, Squall shook his head.

"Can't do it," he breathed.

"Bullshit. One more step."

"Can't."

"Pick up your foot and move it, or I will kick your ass so hard you're going to feel my toes on he back of your tongue."

Squall sneered. "I'd punch you right now if I could."

"I know," Seifer said. "Pick your foot up."

Squall shuffled forward and tagged the wall, leaned forward against it, breathing hard. Seifer patted his shoulder roughly and let him have a minute to recover.

Seifer almost made him walk back, but the effort of those fifteen steps had exhausted him. He sagged against the wall, his legs visibly shaking. Seifer decided to have mercy. Squall wouldn't make it back without falling.

He scooped Squall up and carried him back to the bed, unsettled by how light he was. The doctors said he'd gained weight but Seifer couldn't tell. He doubted Squall weighed much more than Ellone did.

Flushed from the effort, Squall's chin dropped to his chest as Seifer placed him back on the mattress and covered him with the sheet.

"We're doing that again tomorrow," Seifer said. "Except you'll walk back on your own next time. I don't care how long it takes."

Seifer waited for Squall's agreement but didn't get it. Instead, he got a look of loathing so unlike Squall, Seifer was momentarily taken aback.

"She doesn't know I'm alive, does she?"

"Rinoa? No. Not yet," Seifer said.

"Maybe I should stay dead."

"Elle and I didn't spend the last two years looking for you so that you could stay dead," Seifer said. "I know you went through hell and your perception of what may or may not be real is fucked up, but you've got a wife and two kids at home and they need you as much as you need them."

"One."

Seifer cringed at his slip, then decided he didn't care. Now was as good a time as any to break the news and shielding him from the truth would do no one any good. It wasn't out of cruelty but compassion that Seifer corrected him.

" _Two_ ," Seifer said. "Rin was pregnant when you left. You have a son."

Squall tensed and his eyes went wild, searching the room for something that might not have been there.

"His name's Ari. Elle tells me it means lion."

"No."

Squall pressed his hands to his ears and shook his head in denial. Seifer pried them away and hovered over Squall until he opened his eyes.

"You have a family to go home to, no matter what Thalia made you believe," Seifer said. "You hear me? As soon as you're healthy enough, you're going home, so you might as well get used to the idea because if you keep pretending, I'll fly Rinoa up here and  _make_  you face it."

Squall struggled weakly against Seifer's restraining hands and tears seeped from the corners of his eyes. His chest rose and fell as if he'd fought a fierce battle and his jaw trembled in fear or anger.

"I'm sorry you had to hear this from me," Seifer said. "Everyone else thinks you're too fragile, so be grateful I have a little more faith in you."

"It's not real," Squall breathed. "Not real."

"Trust me, it's real," Seifer said as he let Squall go. "You'll be all right once the shock wears off. Elle's got pictures when you're ready to see them. He's a cute kid. Looks like your dad."

Seifer waited until Squall's erratic breathing evened before he said anything else.

"It'll get easier, man," Seifer said. "And if you ever want to know if something's real or not, just ask me. I'm not going to sugar coat it or lie to you."

"No more," Squall said. "Please, no more."

"All right," Seifer agreed. "I got a date, anyway. I'll be back tomorrow."

_After I defile your sister._

He was tempted to say it, but he didn't. The guy had been traumatized enough for the day.

* * *

At two in the morning, long after a surprisingly delicious dinner and not so long after letting Seifer have his way with her, Ellone woke to the sound of her phone's message chime, once, then twice, then a third time. She pried Seifer's arm off her and edged over to the nightstand and through sleepy eyes, peered at her screen.

_Elle, where are you?! Please answer back! ASAP!_

_I've got the Palace Guard searching the grounds for you! Please answer me!_

_I swear to Hyne, Elle, if you don't message me back and tell me you're all right... I can't lose both of you. Please let me know you're ok!_

All three messages were timestamped within minutes of each other. As she was about to type a response, a fourth came in.

_This isn't funny anymore, Ellone! Don't make me give you the cuchi-cuchi!_

As she typed a quick message, Seifer's arms snaked around her middle and pulled her back into his embrace.

"Don't leave," he said sleepily.

"Laguna's freaking out," she said. "I really should go."

"No," he said and threw a leg over hers. "Stay."

"He has the Palace Guard looking for me," she said. "Next, it's going to be the Esthar City police."

"Just tell him you're with me," he said. "He'll chill out."

When a fifth message came before Ellone could finish her message, Seifer snatched the phone from her hands and called Laguna back. Ellone protested, but Seifer clamped a hand over her mouth and put the phone on speaker.

"Elle?!" Laguna cried. "Where the hell are you?!

"She's fine," Seifer said. "She's with me."

"Oh, thank Hyne!" Laguna said. "I've been worried sick."

"She's a big girl, Laguna," Seifer said. "She can look after herself. Call off the hounds and go to bed."

"Can I talk to her?" Laguna asked.

"It's two in the morning," Seifer said. "She's asleep. Hence, the reason she hasn't messaged you back."

"Right, right," Laguna said. "I'm sorry. I'm just paranoid, I guess."

"I'll have her home safe in the morning," Seifer promised. "After she's had some sleep. Which is what you need to be doing."

"Yeah, I know I shouldn't let a gift horse hit me in the mouth," Laguna said. Ellone slapped a hand over her own mouth to hold back her laughter. "Sorry to bother you."

Seifer hit the end button and tossed the phone aside, a big, boyish and sleepy grin spread across his face as he burrowed back into the pillows.

"There," he said. "Now you don't have an excuse to leave."

"Frankly, I'm surprised you want me to stay," Ellone said. "You don't strike me as the cuddly type."

He cracked open an eye, his face half buried in the pillow.

"You must think I'm a real asshole to women."

"I think you keep your distance," she said. "So you don't get hurt."

His silence told her she was right. An arm curled around her waist and brought her closer, until they lay face to face on the pillow.

"You consciously pick people you're not going to get attached to," she said. "All the while hoping, somewhere deep down, that they'll love you anyway."

He winced and propped his head up on his hand to look down at her. Her assessment hit close to home, and it troubled him.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

"What?"

"Get inside my head without actually getting in my head?"

"Most people aren't that hard to figure out," she said. "You included."

Ellone was good at reading people, and not entirely because of her gift. A lifetime spent on the fringes, of observing the world from the sidelines had given her a particular insight into why people did the things they did. It didn't take a genius to figure Seifer or his quirks out.

He was a complex man on the surface, but not as complex as he seemed. It wasn't so hard to break down the issues that were at the core of his hidden insecurities. Knowing where he'd come from, and all the troubles that had plagued him in his youth helped, but all those flickers of kindness she'd seen in him added up to a man who just wanted someone to give a damn.

"Yet, here you are," he said. His fingers traced circles against her lower back. "Knowing I'm an unlovable idiot. Knowing I'll probably run away."

"Edea once told me the people who are hardest to love are the ones that need it most," she said. "So, I'll take my chances."

Pain flared in his eyes, followed by gratitude and his hand lifted away from her back to comb her hair through his fingers.

"No promises, El," he said. "I can't-"

"I know," she said. "I don't need to be your girlfriend, Seifer. I don't need you to change for me and I'll never expect you to."

"So, what is it that we're doing here?"

"Does it need a name? Can't we just enjoy each other's company and see what happens?"

* * *

Rinoa woke with Squall's name on her lips, her heart in her throat. She could still taste his lips on hers, could still smell his cologne in the room around her, and the touch of his hands on her skin. In her arms, the pillow that used to belong to him was clutched tight to her chest. She hugged it close as if she could bring him back if she squeezed it hard enough.

As his scent receded, Rinoa lay back and shut her eyes but it didn't chase away how she still ached for him, or the way he still took up so much space in her heart.

She turned on the bedside lamp and picked up the framed photo from the nightstand. It was the only one she hadn't put away, aside from the one Stella kept on her dresser.

"It feels like you're still here," she whispered to the photo. "Why won't you let me go?"

The man in the photograph didn't answer.

A single spider trekked over the edge of the frame and across the glass. Rinoa returned the photo to the night stand and edged back across the bed in anticipation of more. When no more appeared, Rinoa relaxed against the headboard and gripped Squall's pillow to her chest. She had no tears left, but the sob still came and squeezed all the breath from her lungs.

"Mom?"

Ella stood in the doorway, her purple nightgown too short and drooping off one shoulder. Big blue eyes filled with worry.

"I had a bad dream. About dad."

Rinoa composed herself and held her arms out for her daughter. Ella scrambled onto the bed and burrowed under the blankets and into Rinoa's embrace.

"It was just a dream, sweetie," Rinoa said into her daughter's hair. "Just a dream."

"I know, but it was scary," Ella said. "He was stuck in this great big spiderweb and he couldn't get out. And you know how that book said spiders suck out all the good stuff and eat it? That's what he looked like. Like it sucked everything out but his bones..."

Rinoa pulled Ella closer and let her settle against her side to hide the chill that passed through her. Ella's dream hit a little too close to home. Rinoa was sure it was just a dream, but it didn't help the growing sense of unease, that nagging thing in her gut that said something was really, really  _wrong_.

Going out to the plains with Selphie to kill some monsters had eased the tension for a day or two, but that anxiety never completely went away. Dr. Kadowaki had seen her before she'd left for a new position in Timber. Nothing seemed amiss, but the doctor told her to look for physical changes – lines or discoloration on her skin, increased musculature, intense surges in body temperature, or an uncontrollable urges to cast magic for no reason. So far, none of that happened, but the anxiety remained.

"Can I stay with you?" Ella asked.

"Sure," Rinoa said. She scooted back to her own side and patted Squall's empty pillow. "Just for tonight."

Rinoa turned the light back off and let Ella snuggle into her arms. Ella's hair smelled like sweetpea and vanilla. Rinoa burrowed her face into it and took a deep breath, wishing to memorize the scent the way she'd once memorized Squall's.

"I forgot what he looks like," Ella said tiredly.

"He looked like you," Rinoa promised. "Go back to sleep, Stelly-belly. School in the morning."

Ella settled down and her body relaxed against Rinoa's.

"How come everyone's going away?" Ella asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Aunt Selphie, Uncle Zell, Aunt Quistis..." Ella said. "Aunt Elle. Everybody leaves us."

"No, sweetie," Rinoa said. "They just have things to do, just like I do."

"I wish they'd come back," Ella said, adding a yawn. "I miss them."

Rinoa missed them too. Especially Zell. He'd been an invaluable help, but most of all, she missed his company. It had been lonely the last month and a half, and though he'd come by to visit with the kids, things were tense and she didn't know how to fix it.

He'd mentioned a few dates with Angie, but Rinoa had a feeling their attempts to rekindle the romance weren't going well. She'd hoped it was what he needed, but every time she saw him he wasn't his usual energetic self. He was quieter,more reserved, and he would barely look at her.

Maybe, if things with Angie didn't work out, Rinoa would give it a shot. Maybe, he would find out Rinoa wasn't what he wanted. Or maybe he was the thing she needed to truly move on.

As Ella dozed off, Rinoa stared at the framed photograph on the nightstand, Squall's face ghostly and barely visible in the darkness. Every time she let him go, his memory tightened its grip and refused to release her. Just when the ache seemed to fade, when her wounds started to heal, they split wide open and started to bleed.

It was always little things. A photograph. The scent of his cologne on another man. The roses blooming in the back yard.

She stared at the photo for a while longer, then lay awake as night melted into early dawn, Ella asleep in her arms.

She missed Squall. She missed her friends.

She'd never been so lonely in her life.

When she couldn't lay there any longer, she woke Ella and sent her off to get ready for school. Once Ella was gone, she took the photograph from the nightstand and put it in the drawer, wondering if there would ever be closure. How could there be when her heart told her he wasn't gone?

It lingered through the morning, just as it had for weeks. Her only reprieve was a call from Laguna around lunch time. She hadn't heard from him in weeks and she was glad to hear his voice.

"I'll be in Balamb this weekend," he said, his voice weary. "Elle and Seifer are coming with me. You up for a visit?"

"Of course," she said. "We're always happy to see you."

"I'm bringing a surprise," he said.

"Your company is enough," Rinoa said. "You don't need to bring anything."

"Trust me, this is a surprise you'll want."

"That's not mysterious at all," Rinoa said, her curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, would it?"

"Well, no but you're not good at keeping secrets, Laguna."

"I can't even begin to explain this one," he said.

He sounded strange. Not as enthusiastic as he would normally be over some silly, well intentioned but misguided gift.

"Now I'm really curious," she said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm great," he said. "Just very busy with work and... things. Give the kids my love. I'll see you Saturday."

* * *

Squall sat in the back of a limo outside the Balamb Grand Hotel, a fancy and expensive establishment that had gone up a few years after the war, and after local tourism had increased to the point where the smaller hotel by the docks had been unable to support all the visitors. Ellone had wrapped him in a thin blanket to keep him warm in the vehicle's air conditioner, but he shivered anyway, unsure of what to expect next.

He was going home. What that meant was a question he was afraid to answer. It had been a month since he'd been rescued, if Seifer was to be believed. It simultaneously felt like a handful of days, but also decades since then. Time was something he couldn't quite grasp anymore. It dragged on or slipped away, with minutes as long as days and days reduced to a few seconds.

Sometimes, he couldn't quite believe it was over, that he was safe. He could watch the shadows on the walls for hours in search of a threat. Often, it never came, but sometimes, the walls were covered in spiders, and the hands exercising his limbs belonged to Thalia, her strange mercury eyes triumphant and her smile cruel.

It was getting easier, but Squall wasn't so screwed up that he wasn't aware of how far he still had to go. Twice a day, Seifer made him get out of bed and walk. First, to the door, then laps around the room, and eventually up and down the hall. He'd put two pound weights in Squall's hands and yelled at him until he lifted them, as if Seifer had taken a page from Instructor Aki's playbook and adopted it as his own.

Squall was up to 153 pounds and with continued therapy would eventually regain most of his former muscle mass, but he would always walk with a limp, thanks to the prolonged infection in his leg early on in his imprisonment. He would never be able to fight or hold a gunblade as well as he once had, even with surgery to repair his wrists.

Not that he wanted to fight anymore. There was no job to go back to, anyway. Balamb Garden was a thing of the past, if he believed what his father had told him. Cid's creditors, Thalia, had taken possession of the building. Now that all the students were gone, it sat empty, nestled at the foot of the mountains, a shadow of what it once was.

All this, because of Cid's foolish investments. Now Cid was dead, Edea was in hiding, and the woman who had tormented him to his breaking point owned a building a little too close to home. Going home seemed a bad idea for that reason alone.

Seifer insisted Squall's life was worth something, that it mattered to the people who cared. Get up, get on with it, move your ass, Leonhart until his whole body ached and he was drenched in sweat, breathless and tired.

Squall hated it, but he understood why he had to, and he was as close to grateful for Seifer's daily presence as he would ever be. If not for that, Squall would have languished in bed, staring at the ceiling as he wished for a swift and merciful end.

There were days when he still wanted that, when Seifer pushed him too far or too hard, or when Ellone tried to show him pictures of the kids, of Rinoa.

Now he was going home, and it felt like he was going to break apart. None of them knew, not even Ellone, how twisted his memories had become. The rational part of him was at war with the paranoia Thalia had instilled. There were too many versions of what had happened to be sure any longer which were the truth and which were lies.

Oddly enough, it was Seifer he identified with most. He understood what it was like to have fantasy and reality mingle in such a way, the world became a different place than it actually was.

Squall jumped as the door of the limo opened and Seifer and Laguna slid onto the bench across from him. Ellone slipped her arm through his, her hand clasped lightly around his non-existent bicep.

"Onward, Jeeves," Laguna called to the driver. "You have the address."

"You look like you're going to puke," Seifer said to Squall.

"I won't," Squall said.

"If you do, aim for Elle," Seifer said and winked at her. "Trying to toughen her up. Get her used to being covered in filth."

"Says the guy that ate a frog when he was little, crawled in bed with me because he felt sick, then barfed all over me and my pillow. Twice."

"You know, it really isn't fair you remember this shit and I don't," he said. "Or that you use it against me every chance you get."

"You love it," Ellone said. "And be nice, or I'll tell everyone about the time you stole Matron's bra from the laundry basket and ran naked around the house wearing it on your big fat head."

"You're just jealous because your head is so puny."

Laguna chuckled and patted Ellone on the knee.

"You kids crack me up," he said. "Glad to see you getting along."

Ellone smiled placidly at Seifer as they shared a look Squall couldn't read. He knew they'd spent two years looking for him, which was strange enough, but to see them behave like they were close friends was even stranger. A pang of jealousy shot through him at the thought of the two bonding while he suffered.

That was unfair, but he couldn't help it.

Jealousy melted away as they turned onto Squall's street and he stared out the window to take it in.

It looked different than he remembered. The houses bigger, the colors different. The road narrower. Trees looked taller.

His heart was in his throat as the limo stopped in front of the house he'd once called home, and it was both familiar and foreign to him. The yard needed to be mowed, the hedges trimmed. Marigolds had been planted along the edges of the driveway, but lack of water rendered them sad and pathetic and withered.

He shivered under the blanket as a quiet panic began to set in. They though he was dead. They thought he was dead and maybe he was better off that way. Maybe, he'd been gone too long, maybe she'd moved on and built a different life without him in it.

Maybe, she wouldn't want him back like this. He was under no illusions that he was or would ever be the man she remembered. He was broken, spiritually, physically, mentally – she deserved someone who was strong enough to look out for her and protect her, and he was no longer that man. He was no knight. Not anymore. He couldn't protect her from a cockroach, let alone a real threat.

His breath came in short bursts as anxiety overwhelmed him and the edges of his vision swam with stars. This was his home, but it wasn't anymore.

"I don't belong here," he said. "Take me back to Esthar."

Tears formed in the corner of Laguna's eyes and Ellone's arm slid around his shoulders.

"It'll be fine," Laguna said as he opened the door. "The first step is always the hardest."

"No."

"Squall, you have to do this," Laguna said. "Come on. Give me your hand."

Squall shook his head and tried valiantly to keep himself in check. A scream built behind his lips and his eyes burned with tears he refused to shed. He bit down on his lip, every limb shaking as he fought back the overwhelming panic and fear. Whatever lay behind that door, he didn't want it. Whatever life he'd once had was over. They'd said their goodbyes.

"Squall -" Laguna tried again.

"Give him a minute," Seifer said mildly. "This is a lot to take all at once."

Squall didn't look at Seifer, but he was grateful someone understood.

"Remember what they taught us about fear?" Seifer said. "When we were kids?"

"Fear is fuel for courage or cowardice," Squall murmured to his knees.

"That's right," Seifer said. "What else?"

"Most acts of bravery are not committed in the absence of fear but in spite of it."

"Good," Seifer said. "You're the bravest man I know, Leonhart, aside from myself. You've never let fear rule you before. Why start today?"

Getting out of the car was one of the hardest things Squall had ever done, but he did it, his legs shaking as Ellone guided him up the walk. He was chilled to the bone, but sweating, his heart racing in his chest, and it took everything in him to climb the three steps to the porch.

All he wanted to do was run away.

He expected an emotional greeting when Laguna opened the front door, but the foyer was empty and silent. Familiar scents of home assaulted him – lemon cleaner, lavender, coffee, a whiff of Rinoa's perfume.

From where he stood, he could see the yard through the back window, where Zell chased a young girl with long chestnut hair across the grass. She threw her head back, laughing as he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder and spun around in circles, a big, stupid grin on his face.

Ella. The most precious thing in Squall's world. The purest thing he knew.

It wrecked him. Whatever hold he had on his panic slipped away and he sagged against Ellone, his chest tight and his vision blurred by tears. Jealousy filled him as he watched Zell lift Ella onto his shoulders.

Squall wouldn't be able to do that. He would barely be able to hold her.

And Zell. All Squall knew for a second was hatred as visions of Rinoa in Zell's arms flickered back to life. Squall wouldn't blame her if she'd moved on, but the thought of Zell in his place was a bitter pill to swallow.

"They're... She's..." he choked out, but the words wouldn't come.

What was the point of coming home if Rinoa loved someone else? If he'd been replaced?

He was no knight. Not now. Not like this. He couldn't protect them, couldn't fight back. They couldn't see him like this, not like this, not like this. Rinoa had moved on, and that was for the best.

It was for the best.

"They don't need me anymore."

Ellone hugged him, her hands soothing against his back.

"It's okay, Squall," she promised. "They still need you."

"For what?"

"For  _you_."

"I can't -"

"Shh. You're fine," she said. "You're safe."

"Why don't we take him to the office," Seifer suggested. "Let him sit down and rest."

"I think that's a good idea," Ellone said. "Laguna, why don't you go find Rinoa and explain what happened?"

There was no explanation for what happened. Nothing that made sense. No explanation for why he was still alive or for why being here hurt so much when all he'd thought about the first few months away had been home.

Ellone seated him on the couch in the office and adjusted the blanket around his shoulders as he trembled from exertion and panic. Seifer seated himself on the coffee table in front of him and patted Squall's leg.

"Take a deep breath, Leonhart," Seifer said. "You're halfway there."

"Where?"

"Back to where you belong."

* * *

Rinoa prepared for the visit by cleaning the house, top to bottom. Even with a maid coming twice a week to help out, it still got messy. Being a single mother with a full time business and two young children didn't leave her a lot of time for the details. She'd never been the best housekeeper to begin with, so she considered it a good day if she managed to get all the laundry done before bed. Folding it was a different story.

Now that Ella was old enough to help out, Rinoa enlisted her help and gave her a short list of simple tasks, and was delighted when Ella tackled them without complaint. Ella pushed the vacuum around the living room while Rinoa cleaned the windows, Ari occupied in his newer, bigger walker that was shaped like a turtle.

The weather on Saturday was supposed to be clear and mild, so Rinoa decided a barbecue would be fun and invited Zell and Angie to join them. Selphie and Irvine had gone to Deling City to look at wedding venues, though Rinoa couldn't understand why. They planned to live in Balamb for a year before looking for a home in Trabia, and most of their friends lived in Balamb.

It was just as well. Poor Laguna didn't get a minute to himself when Selphie was around. All these years, and she was still obsessed to the point where she monopolized the conversation and forgot his family wight want time with him too.

Zell called Saturday morning to let her know Angie wouldn't be coming and asked if he should bow out too, since Seifer was joining them. Rinoa wouldn't hear a word about it and insisted Zell come, and he agreed, but only after she promised to hit Seifer with an Ultima spell if he misbehaved. Zell was family. Ellone was his Sis and his friend. He deserved to be there, too.

Around noon, Zell showed up just as Rinoa put the finishing touches on a bowl of potato salad. In his arms was a bakery box and a case of beer.

Rinoa peeked inside the box and saw a cherry cheesecake nestled inside. Ellone's favorite.

"They should be here soon," Rinoa said. "Laguna messaged and said they were about to check into the hotel."

"That explains the big ass limo blocking traffic over by the beach," Zell said. "Why's he in that? He usually just rents a normal car."

"I suppose it's because he has extra people with him this time," Rinoa said. She took the beer from him and stuck it in the fridge. "So what happened with Angie? I thought she was excited to come."

Zell's mouth screwed up and he pushed a hand into his bangs.

"We broke up."

"What? What happened?"

"We want different things," Zell said.

"Surely you can work around it," Rinoa said. "You have to make compromises in a relationship, you know."

"Yeah, well," he said. "She doesn't want kids. That's kind of a deal breaker."

Rinoa patted his shoulder and offered him a beer from her already cold stash. He twisted the lid off and took a long swallow.

"Sorry to hear that," Rinoa said. "I was really hoping it would work out for you two."

Zell shrugged.

"My heart wasn't in it anyway. I tried, but it just wasn't. I'm not even that upset."

"Well, I'm glad you came anyway," Rinoa said. "Ella's out back if you want to say hi. Ari's asleep, but I'm sure it won't be for long."

Outside, Ella was on the swings but she leaped off when she saw Zell and ran across the yard to jump into his arms. He picked her up, hugged her and set her back on her feet with a grin.

"Hey bud," he said. "You gotta stop growing. I can't keep up."

Ella rolled her eyes and latched onto his arm. "You're a grown up. That means you don't grow anymore."

"Exactly," Zell said. "That's why I can't keep up."

"You're silly," Ella declared. "Wanna see my roundhouse kick? It's really good."

"You bet," Zell said. "Show me what you got."

He took a seat on a nearby lawn chair and sipped his beer while Ella attempted a roundhouse and wound up spinning too hard, her balance way off. Rinoa suppressed a laugh at how awkward Ella was, all arms and legs and no coordination. At that age, Rinoa had been the same, gangly and coltish and clumsy. With any luck, Ella would grow out of it and into her long limbs.

Zell cheered for her anyway, offering praise and encouragement for a job well done, then joined her in the yard to give her a few pointers.

Rinoa watched, keeping one ear to the door in case Ari woke up or Laguna arrived, and she suddenly wanted to give Zell a hug. A really tight one, for being who he was and for loving her kids enough to be here and do the things he did for them.

"Do a back flip!" Ella cried. "The kind with no hands!"

Zell performed a series of flips across the yard as if his legs were spring loaded. He made it look so easy and Rinoa knew it wasn't.

"You know how to do a cartwheel?" he asked.

"Kinda," Ella said. "A little bit."

From the baby monitor came the sound of Ari babbling and Rinoa got up to retrieve him from his room. He waved and smiled when she peeked in on him, one arm wrapped around his favorite turtle.

"Mama," he cooed and held up the toy. "Tudle seep."

"And now turtle's awake," she said. "Just like Ari."

"Dood."

"Ari," she corrected. "Guess what? Your Uncle Dude is here! And, your Grandpa Laguna's coming today to spoil you rotten. Isn't that great?"

"Goona!" Ari said. "Gooooonahhh!"

Rinoa laughed and nuzzled the top of his head, pressed her lips to the soft, dark curls and breathed in the scent of baby powder and something sweet without a name but it was a scent that belonged solely to children.

"Mmah!"

Ari pressed his hand to his mouth and lifted it away. Ella had taught him to blow kisses, and though he hadn't gotten the hang of the order of it yet, he was trying.

"You are the sweetest boy," she told him as she carried him to the changing table. "Mommy loves you, too."

She changed his diaper, then put on a clean shirt and a pair of brown corduroy overalls, then socks and his little high tops that would probably wind up somewhere in the yard within thirty minutes.

"Now you look handsome," she told him as she stood him up and brushed her hands over him. "Let's go say hi to Zell, okay?"

"Sell? Dood?"

"Mmhm," she agreed. "He's going to be so happy to see you."

At the bottom of the stairs she turned for the back door, but jumped when someone called her name. She turned to find a less-than-joyful Laguna standing in the foyer, his hands shoved the pockets of his cargo pants.

"I let myself in," he said. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Rinoa said. "You startled me, that's all."

"Goona!"

Laguna perked up a little and held out his arms to receive Ari. Rinoa handed him off and Ari clapped happily as Laguna propped the boy on his hip.

"Let me see my grandson," he said, eyes crinkling in the corners more than Rinoa remembered. "You are getting so big."

"Everyone says he's starting to look like you," Rinoa said.

"Poor kid," Laguna said and pinched Ari's cheek. "Maybe you'll luck out and get your looks from your mommy, instead of your ugly old gramps."

For the first time, Rinoa noticed Laguna was starting to show his age. There were circles under his eyes, the lines in his forehead deeper, and a bit more gray at his temples.

"How have you been?" Rinoa asked. "I hardly year from you guys anymore."

"Well, that's kinda why we're here," Laguna said. "I've got something important to tell you. Can we sit and talk?"

"Sure," Rinoa said.

She kept her tone light, but she was officially worried. Laguna usually gushed about things that excited him and kept the things that bothered him hidden. It was usually one or the other, and this was neither.

"It's a long story," Laguna said. "I'm not even sure where to begin."

"While you figure that out, can I get you something to drink?" Rinoa asked. "I've got plenty of juice."

"Something harder?"

Rinoa hadn't expected that, but she nodded.

"I've got some Gyshal vodka or there's probably some whiskey still in the cabinet."

"Either's fine," Laguna said dismissively. "With juice."

He dropped to the floor and settled Ari into his lap. Rinoa poured him a drink and grabbed a beer for herself, thought the better of it and made herself a a drink too. When she returned, Ari stood on Laguna's thighs, patting the man's cheeks with a happy grin.

Rinoa offered the drink, which Laguna took care to keep away from Ari's inquisitive hands, and she took a seat, waiting for him to speak. He downed the drink, set it aside and squared his shoulders.

"Maybe, it's best if I show you first and explain later," Laguna said. He stood and lifted Ari up to his hip. "You won't believe me any other way."

"Laguna, what's going on?" Rinoa asked. "You're scaring me."

"Just come with me," he said. "Please. I think it will be easier if I rip the tape off and be done with it."

She followed him through the house, to the office door, put his hand on the knob and hesitated.

"No sudden moves, okay?" he said. "He startles easily, so no matter what, no screaming or loud crying or throwing yourself at him. Please."

Rinoa frowned, but she realized what Laguna must be up to. It was a nice thought, but she didn't need an extra burden just yet.

"Tell me you didn't get the kids a dog."

The corner of Laguna's mouth quirked up into a smile.

"I brought you something better," he said and opened the door. "Promise."

The first thing she saw was Seifer standing by the couch in the corner, his hands stuffed into the pockets of a dark blue peacoat, still as strong and dangerous and handsome as she remembered. His trademark smirk was gone and in its place was a sadness that was out of character for him.

"He better not be the surprise," Rinoa said under her breath. "I'll take the puppy, if that's the case."

Laguna chuckled and patted her arm.

"Nope," he said. "But you're right. A puppy is better behaved. Cuter, too."

"Blow me," Seifer said. He looked Rinoa over and scowled. "You didn't tell her, did you?"

"I thought we'd show her instead."

Rinoa was getting annoyed. "Show me  _what_?"

Seifer stepped away with a theatrical wave of his arm to reveal two people sitting on the couch behind him. She recognized Ellone right away, but it took her a second to register who the second person was.

His hair was clipped short, his shoulders slumped under the thin blanket wrapped around him, his face too thin, but as he turned his eyes on her, a shade of blue she knew so well, her eyes filled with tears. It wasn't possible, but there he was, and her breath was stolen away as she spoke his name aloud.

"Squall?"


	16. Chapter 16

16

* * *

It had been twenty-six months and a handful of days since Squall had last laid eyes on his wife.

791 days, 728 of them spent with chains around his wrists, trapped in a nightmare he hadn't been able to wake up from.

He recognized her, but she was too good to be true, a beautiful dream, an ethereal fantasy that would be ripped away from him the second he believed she was real. All he could do was stare at her warm, brown eyes filled with tears and wide with disbelief.

She gave a soft, choked sob as she stepped toward him, and Squall looked away, afraid if she touched him it would all be over and she would dissolve or destroy him or he would open his eyes and find himself still in hell, Rinoa the last thing his dying brain conjured before his heart gave out. Or worse, his fears were truth, that the whole world as he knew it had ended even before he'd even left port 791 days ago.

"Squall?" she whispered. "Is that really you?"

That was a good question. One he couldn't answer in the affirmative.

He couldn't answer at all, afraid if he spoke aloud, she would tell him she didn't want him anymore, that the little boy in Laguna's arms wasn't his, shit, shit, shit, he couldn't do this, couldn't hear her tell him she didn't love him, that she'd moved on, that it was over and his chest ached like a behemoth was sitting on it and he couldn't breathe couldn't look at her she wasn't wearing her wedding ring anymore, _oh, god-_

Rinoa fell to her knees before him and dropped her head to his lap, sobbing as her arms reached for him. Squall nearly jumped out of his skin, choking on what little oxygen was left in his lungs. He couldn't breathe -

_...she holds an infant against her chest and Zell slides into the space beside her on the bed, head propped on his hand and gazes lovingly at the both of them. They are a family now, all the pictures of Squall are packed away and forgotten and the ring on her finger is gone, not his wife, not his, and Zell's grin says mine, mine, mine, all mine now..._

"Squall, it's okay," Ellone said, "it's okay."

"Can't breathe," he hissed. "Can't breathe."

Rinoa was lifted away from his lap, her sob a protest and another heartbreak Squall couldn't take. He wanted her arms around him but he never wanted her to touch him again, shit, there was no air in this room, _where had all the air gone_ , he needed to get out of here, away from her, away from everything he was guilty of and she was guilty of and -

"Leonhart," Seifer said. Seifer's hand gripped his shoulder-

_... I made love to your wife, Squall. In your bed. And she loved it..._

"Can't."

_...I'm a better father than you'll ever be..._

"Bullshit," Seifer said. Hands landed on his shoulders. "Stand up. Hug your wife."

_...You saw what you wanted to see..._

Squall shook his head. He couldn't touch her. Didn't deserve to touch her. He would die if she touched him -

"You know how this works," Seifer said. "Get your ass up."

If he'd thought getting out of the car was hard, this was harder. He was lifted to his feet, his body shaking from head to toe, and guided forward until he faced Rinoa. Rivers of tears ran down her cheeks and he couldn't look directly at her. It was like looking directly at the sun, dazzling and painful, a blaze of light so bright it burned his retinas and left him blind.

Hyne, how he wanted to _really_ look at her, to see if there were any tell-tale errors in the illusion, flecks of mercury in her eyes, the shape of her lips not quite right, but he didn't want to know the truth. He wanted to _believe_ , wanted this to be real, and shit, how he'd missed her, the feel of her arms around him, the smell of her perfume, her lips, eyes, laugh-

"Tell me it's real," Squall choked.

"It's real," Seifer said. "She's going to put her arms around you now."

Squall's face crumpled and he fought back a sob, his chest still held in a vice of longing and fear as her arms came up around his waist. He was enveloped in her familiar scent and his eyes began to burn as a sob exploded from her and her body shook against him. His arms remained limp at his sides, unable to return her embrace.

He would die if this wasn't real. Die for real this time and they wouldn't need to bury him or grieve because he was as sure he'd catch fire and turn to ash.

_...Not yours anymore..._

"You're so skinny," Rinoa sobbed into his chest. "What did they do to you?"

A better question was, what didn't she do? What part of him hadn't Thalia stolen? What had she left besides skin and bone?

By some cruel twist of fate, he was here, too terrified to be grateful, too certain this was all a dream that would bleed away into stardust and he would wake in the belly of a ship with cuffs around his wrists, smarting from his most recent wounds and waiting to die. If he let go and believed, it would be Thalia holding him, her mocking smile triumphant she'd made him buy her illusion, even when he'd known better.

When Rinoa's arms tightened around him, Squall stepped back, choked by panic, his eyes on the floor. He swallowed around the painful lump in his throat as Rinoa let him go and took his arm to inspect the marks Thalia had left behind. He flinched as a finger traced over a latticework of scars on his forearm and over the ring of shiny, pinkish tissue around his wrists.

He knew what he looked like. A bag of bones, a walking corpse, a victim decorated in scars.

"Who did this to you?" Rinoa whispered.

"We'll talk about that later," Seifer said.

"I want an explanation _now_ ," Rinoa said. "I want to know everything. Including why no one told me."

Squall couldn't remember the last time he'd heard Rinoa so angry. She had a temper and wasn't afraid to show it, but this was different. Her cold tone was an echo of Thalia's, and Squall took another step back, forced to retreat. As he backed away, his heels hit the coffee table and he nearly fell. Ellone steadied him and guided him back to the couch, but the part of him that could still put up a fight went on defense and he prepared himself for the worst, to be hit, shown some fresh horror, made to bleed -

\- it didn't come.

Seifer and Laguna were locked in some kind of silent stand-off on the other side of the room, Laguna guilty and Seifer coldly furious. On Laguna's hip, the little boy shoved a strand of hair into his mouth and slapped Laguna's chest with a tiny hand.

Squall shut his eyes as Ellone's hands wrapped around his upper arms and she said something he didn't hear. His throat hurt, his vision behind his closed lids blurred white, then black and he couldn't breathe again.

A loud bang on the door, a sound like a gunshot and Squall covered his face to protect himself from the blows that were sure to come. R _at-tat-tat-bang-bang_ and the door flew open, a soft girlish laugh in the wake of the noise.

"Hey Rin? You in here?"

Zell peered around the room in confusion. Ella sat on his shoulders poking at his gravity-defiant hair and Squall's heart ached with jealousy and affection.

_Ella._

"Why's everybody hiding in here?"

Zell surveyed the scene and when his eyes found Squall, they widened, his mouth opened with wordless surprise, and he lifted Ella from his shoulders to set her on her feet. Squall choked back a blaze of hatred as Zell stared at him with too wide eyes, full of too innocent disbelief.

Traitor, betrayer, wife-stealer.

Squall shut his eyes against words and memories and things he wasn't sure were real or not. These were things he couldn't bear to think of, not right now -

… _mine, Squall. She's mine now..._

"Holy shit," Zell murmured. "Is this for real?"

"Ummm! That's a bad word," Ella scolded.

"Sorry kiddo," Zell said.

He looked from Squall to Laguna, wiped a hand over his face and grinned, his smile pointy toothed and genuine, but it wasn't Zell's grin that caught Squall's attention. His eyes fell on his daughter and the lump in it so big, Squall couldn't swallow.

Ella was taller and prettier and too perfect to be real. His face crumpled as he slid to his knees, half from emotion, half from weakness, and he held his arms open for her.

"Ella."

"Daddy?"

She cautiously approached, blinking at him with wide eyes.

"What happened to your hair?" she asked. "Your head looks weird."

In spite of everything, Squall smiled for the first time in a long, long time. He didn't care if this was fantasy. It was the one thing he had that was still pure and untainted and he would gladly let himself get lost in a daydream that didn't tear his mind or his heart to pieces.

Ella crashed into him and Squall clasped her to his chest to the best of his ability, his embrace not firm enough for his liking. All the noise and doubt in his head stopped and the world righted itself a little as her arms curled around his neck, like she was a shield from the worst of his fears and nightmares. Anxiety bled out of him as he brought her closer and the vice around his chest released enough that breathing wasn't so hard anymore.

As he dropped his lips to the top of her head, a silent sob burst out of him – relief and love mingling like an antidote to panic. She felt so solid and real, her heartbeat steady against his palms and her soft breath warm against his cheek and smelled of fresh air and strawberry shampoo.

"I missed you, baby," he whispered. "I missed you so much."

"They said you were dead."

"I know."

"We had a funnel for you and everything."

Squall smiled through his tears and held her as tight as he could.

"You mean a funeral?"

"Yeah," Ella sniffled. "It was sad and everyone cried and they said you were gone forever. Are you going to leave again?"

"No, sweetie," he said, but he wasn't sure if it was the truth. "They made a mistake."

"I can feel all your bones," Ella said and poked him in the ribs. "Your shoulder's all pointy."

He bit down on his lip, the ache in his throat nearly choking him. Everyone was staring, there were too many people in the room, too many eyes on him and the panic swelled in his blood again.

For a second, Ella wasn't there, and his arms wrapped around air, his daughter a figment of his imagination. Then she shifted, the weight of her painful against his thighs, but solid and real and the best thing he knew.

"I'll be okay..."

But he wasn't. Not really. Afraid of his wife, furious with his best friend and his father, afraid he would open his eyes and the world would go dark and find himself chained, bound, wounded, sick, and Ella would be gone and just a nice dream in the midst of a nightmare.

* * *

Rinoa stared at her husband, a man she'd seen buried and had mourned for over two years, now resurrected a paler, smaller version with too big eyes and hollow cheeks, and she didn't know what to do, say or think.

A thousand questions came to mind all at once, questions she couldn't voice because she feared if she spoke, Squall would disappear. On her wrist the Odine bangle sizzled against her skin with an almost audible crackle. It grew hot against her wrist, and with a loud pop, broke to pieces, scattering silvery shards across the carpet.

Didn't matter.

Squall hadn't held her back. He'd just stood there, shaking like a dog that had been beaten too many times, and his fear of her was so strong, she _felt_ it. He'd barely looked at her, and when their eyes had met, his had been full of loathing and terror.

Why was he afraid of her?

He'd never looked at her that way before. Never with such a lack of love or trust, never with such fear or hatred. As if he saw someone else in her place.

Rinoa could hear her own pulse in her ears, a cold tingling in her fingers and toes as she watched Squall smile at his daughter. His smile for Ella had always come without reservation, without hesitation. Rinoa hadn't thought she'd ever get to see it again.

A strange, keening cry escaped her lips as she realized just how frail and small he was. She'd been able to feel his ribs through his shirt and the sharp jut of his hip bones against her stomach, a sign he was either ill or he had been deprived of the most basic of needs.

He'd _suffered._

There were too many feelings swirling around inside Rinoa's heart, but anger was the strongest. Anger that he'd been so badly neglected, that he'd been returned to her this way, anger that she hadn't trusted her gut. This whole time, he'd been alive and she'd _felt_ him there but hadn't believed it could be real after all the evidence to prove he was gone. She'd taken them at their word and she'd believed Garden had done the necessary tests to prove beyond a doubt that the body they'd recovered belonged to Squall.

She knew better than to trust Cid, but she trusted Dr. Kadowaki, and Quistis and Zell and Ellone. They'd all assured her Squall was gone, that there wasn't even a chance he might come back.

So how had this happened?

"Why didn't you tell her?" Seifer demanded of Laguna. "She should have been prepared before she set foot in here!"

"I thought it would be better this way."

Rinoa didn't understand what was going on, how he was alive, and it almost didn't matter. Squall needed her, she needed him. Two years of crying for him, missing him, all the longing and hurt – it all condensed into relief so intense, she sank to her knees and watched as Ella clung to Squall and told him all about her karate lessons and school and the diorama she was building for school.

She wanted to go to him, to join him and look him in the eye, to touch and hold and promise he'd been missed, but as Seifer's hissed words to Laguna grew in volume, she stepped in and pushed him back and away from Laguna to stand between them before it got physical.

"Someone tell me what happened, right now," she demanded.

Laguna pushed a hand through his hair and shifted Ari on his hip. Behind him, a wide eyed Zell stood gaping, utterly silent and just as confused as she was.

"Someone say something."

Seifer caught her by the arm and steered her from the room. Over his shoulder, he barked at Laguna and Zell to follow and led them all to the kitchen, where Zell took Ari from Laguna and plopped into a chair with the boy in his lap.

"Sell dood."

"Hey little man," Zell said, his voice breaking with emotion. "Where did your other shoe go, bud?"

The bottle of vodka was still on the counter. Seifer helped himself to it before pouring a glass for Rinoa. He ignored the other two, set the glass in front of her and waited for her to drink before he sat and kicked a chair away from the table for her to join him.

"Start talking," she said. Her anger mingled with a sensation that coiled through her veins like slithering snakes. Her hands tingled, the hair on her arms prickled. "I want to know everything."

Seifer took a thoughtful sip of his drink and glanced at Laguna, who just stared at the tablecloth, slump shouldered and forlorn.

"The man we buried two years ago wasn't Squall," Laguna began.

"Obviously."

Seifer shot her a look of reproach, sipped his drink and returned his gaze to Laguna.

"What _happened_ ," Rinoa demanded. "I want to know everything, including why no one told me about this."

Laguna held out a hand, palm up and looked to Seifer. Seifer rolled his eyes and sat up to fold his arms against the table top.

"At Squall's funeral, I overheard a conversation I wasn't supposed to overhear," Seifer said. "Between Cid and a Shumi Accountant about an unresolved debt of Cid's. Apparently, Squall was taken as collateral. The Shumi implied Squall might not be dead, so we looked into it on the off chance he wasn't lying..."

"You've known about this since the funeral?!" Rinoa cried.

Seifer held up a hand and Rinoa gritted her teeth. There had better be a really, really good explanation for all of this, and even then, she wasn't so sure she could forgive them for keeping it from her.

"At that point, we didn't know anything for real," Seifer said. "It was just a hunch, Rin. We didn't think it was fair to upset you or give you false hope when we had no way to prove it."

"Not good enough," she said. "At some point you realized he was alive, didn't you? You can't expect me to believe you spent two years chasing a _hunch_."

"Will you shut up and let me explain?" Seifer snapped.

Rinoa almost snapped back at him, but Laguna reached over and placed a hand over hers.

"Just listen, okay?" Laguna said. "You can ask anything you want when he's done."

Across the table, Ari gave a squeal of delight and bounced on Zell's knee, oblivious to the tension in the room.

"They did a damn good job making look like him," Seifer said. "If I hadn't heard that conversation, I would have believed it, too."

Seifer told the story from start to finish, of how he'd gotten a hold of Squall's dental records and had a comparison done with those from the body, something Garden had never bothered to do, and how they weren't even a close match. He talked about a woman named Thalia, who had a gift that sounded like something out of a horror movie, and about what she'd done to Squall, before and after Cid's death, and about Squall's rescue two months ago and the pathetic shape they'd found him in.

Rinoa heard his words, she understood them, but all that really stuck with her was the fact that they'd all known and hadn't said a thing to her.

"We really don't know the extent of what she did to him," Seifer said. "Ellone saw some of it when she was able to connect, but it was only a snapshot. I have a feeling we didn't see the worst of it."

"Ellone was able to connect with him," Rinoa said flatly. "And no one told me."

"We didn't want you to mourn twice, sweetie," Laguna said. "It always seemed like we were going to lose him."

"You told me to date again!" she cried. "You knew he was alive, and you told me it was okay to find someone else?! Why would you do that?"

"I had hope we'd find him the first six months," Laguna said. "But the longer it went on, the less I believed Squall was coming home alive... I just wanted you to be happy, Rin..."

Rinoa picked up her glass, pushed to her feet and refilled it in silence. This was no white lie that she could easily overlook, this was a damn conspiracy. A plot to deceive, good intentions or not, and that wasn't easy to forgive. Not where Squall was concerned. His life had been in danger, he'd been tortured, starved, left without a means to fight back, and they had purposely left her in the dark.

"I can understand Seifer not saying anything about this," Rinoa said to the cabinets. "Not your business and all, but what I don't understand why my husband's _family_ kept this a secret! If Ellone connected with him and confirmed he was alive, _why didn't you say anything to me?_!"

Ari began to cry at her raised voice and burrowed into Zell's chest. Rinoa's anger was interrupted by guilt for frightening him and she scooped him out of Zell's lap and into her arms, speaking a soft apology as he bawled into her shoulder.

"Don't be pissed at Ellone," Seifer said, a warning in his eyes. "You have no idea how hard she fought to bring him back, or what she went through."

"All she had to do was close her eyes and go to sleep, right?" Rinoa snapped.

"Wrong," Seifer said. "I don't blame you for being pissed, but you don't know what kind of toll it took on her. You don't know, Rin, and you should be damn grateful we even tried."

She was too angry to be grateful. Too betrayed. Secrets were lies by omission, in her opinion.

"You knew I would want the truth, no matter what," she said. "And then you bring him home like this without a word of explanation? How dare you. How _dare_ you do that to him, or me, or Ella!"

The volume of her voice stayed low, but she didn't bother hide the venom in it. Laguna turned guilty eyes to the table again and pretended he wasn't rubbing a cramp from his leg under the table. The prickling in her hands and feet intensified and she realized it was magic, itching to be released. Her bracelet was in pieces all over the office floor and there wasn't much to stop her from letting go if she lost control.

The only thing stopping her was Ari.

"I could have helped or done something or at the very least, I would have known I wasn't going crazy," she said. "You knew I still felt him, Laguna. _Ellone_ knew."

"Are you done?" Seifer asked. "Because there's more."

Rinoa turned back to him, unsure if she could handle more. How much more could there be? How much worse could it get? Rinoa fussed with Ari, the boy still weepy-eyed, and bounced him on her hip until he smiled again.

"Rin?" Seifer prompted.

She nuzzled the top of her son's head, and peered at Seifer for a second before she nodded for him to continue.

"He didn't want to come home, Rin" Seifer said. "Even in the car on the way here, he thought maybe it was for the best that he didn't come back. He thought he should stay dead."

Rinoa's shoulders drooped, all the fight draining out of her. Squall thought he should have stayed dead? Why?

"Of course he'd want to come home," Rinoa said. "Why wouldn't he?"

"She fucked him up pretty bad," Seifer said. "He doesn't always know what's real."

"And... he's afraid of you, Rin," Laguna supplied.

Rinoa wiped her eyes and stared at her father in law.

"Me?"

"I don't think he wanted you to see him like this," Laguna said. "And in all honesty, none of us were sure he was going to make it at first. He was... a lot worse than what you saw in there."

Rinoa couldn't imagine him being any worse than he was now. He could barely stand on his own and looked as if he hadn't had a decent meal the whole time he was gone.

"So, who decided I couldn't handle knowing how bad off he was?"

"I did," Seifer said and crossed his arms over his chest. "You want to knock the shit out of me for it? Go right ahead."

Rinoa was tempted. So tempted to belt him across the face a few times, maybe throw down some kind of magic that would leave him too wounded to get up. Her body itched to do it, to let out what the Odine bangle had suppressed, but as she looked at him, she knew he was lying.

"He's been through enough. Didn't see any point in dumping him off on you, unable to walk or feed himself," Seifer said shrewdly. "Especially if he didn't want to be here."

Why wouldn't he want to come home? To his family? The Squall Rinoa knew would want to see his wife and daughter straight away, without delay.

"You don't have the right to decide that for me," Rinoa said. "Or for him. None of you do."

"Well, Rin," Seifer said. "He's not exactly capable of making those decisions for himself. And I might as well mention, he doesn't believe the little one exists."

"What?"

"We tried, Rin," Laguna said. "Showed him pictures, talked about him. Refuses to listen."

"So let me get this straight," Rinoa said. "He's afraid of me and Ari's not real."

Seifer's face screwed up into a pained scowl. His eyes flicked from Laguna to Zell before he spoke.

"Two years is a long time," Seifer said. "It wouldn't be unreasonable to think you'd moved on and started a new family."

"Okay," Rinoa said, "but do the math."

Seifer laughed without humor and shook his head at the table cloth.

"He thinks the walls are crawling with spiders, Rin," Seifer said. "Do you really think he's in any shape to _do the math_? Do you think he's going to be rational enough to figure it out?"

"I..." Rinoa began, but looked at Ari's sweet face and sighed. "I suppose not."

"Unless he's not Squall's kid," Seifer said.

Rinoa grabbed hold of the nearest thing on the counter, which turned out to be a small wind up timer and hurled it at Seifer's head. It bounced off his cheek and hit the floor, triggering the small alarm bell inside. It clanged against the tile until Laguna picked it up and turned it off, while Seifer touched the spot where it struck gingerly. Ari found all of the commotion a delight and clapped his hands as he bounced on Rinoa's hip.

"Just checking," Seifer said mildly. "No reason to get violent."

Through all of this, Zell had not said a single word. He just sat there, knuckles pressed to his lips and stared into the distance, at a spot on the wall behind Seifer. Her thoughts instantly turned to the hotel room in Dollet, to his confession of love, to the way he'd kissed her. She was so, so glad it had gone no further, but at the same time, her heart went out to him. Squall's return must have killed whatever hope he'd had there might still be a chance.

Hyne, Zell deserved better.

"Can we continue, or would you like to throw a few more things?" Seifer asked.

"Go on," Rinoa said through gritted teeth.

"When you go back in that room, you go in there with the understanding that he might not respond to you the way you want him to," Seifer said. "The only time he acts like himself is during PT, and only when I push him into it, otherwise he's unpredictable. He might talk to you one day and then pretend you're not really there the next. If he ignores you, don't push it. He'll talk when he's ready."

* * *

Ella sat curled in Squall's lap, chattering on at him as they sat on the couch together. The weight of her against his chest was a little painful, but it was pain Squall was willing to endure. Her voice soothed him, grounded him, brought him back to earth. Somehow, with her there, he had some clarity in the midst of his confusion. Why that was, he couldn't say, nor did he care.

"Who did they put in your grave?" Ella wondered. "If you didn't die, who's in the dirt?"

"I don't know, sweetie," he murmured.

"Do they have to take your name off the grave now?"

Squall didn't know the answer to that question either. He doubted anyone maintained the SeeD cemetery anymore, now that the place was closed. Eventually, his headstone would be hidden among vines and tall grass and debris, left to the elements and indistinguishable from any of the others.

"Are you sick, daddy?"

That depended on the definition of sick. Squall was heartsick, his mind poisoned, his body an enemy that protested every movement, but if the doctors were to be believed, he was on the mend.

"How come you're not talking?" Ella asked.

Squall hugged her as tight as he could, and kissed her forehead as he struggled to find an answer she would understand.

"Your dad's had a very long day, sweetie," Ellone supplied. She got up and smoothed down her skirt. "Why don't you and I go see if we can help get dinner ready so he can get some rest?"

Ella reluctantly climbed from Squall's lap and he winced as her bones ground against his. She flounced toward the door, but Ellone lingered behind and crouched in front of him to take his hand.

"You okay?"

Squall rubbed his palm against his thigh, but he shook his head no. He wasn't okay. He wasn't sure what he was doing here or what he was supposed to do now.

"Should we have told her sooner, Squall?" Ellone wondered. "That you were alive?"

Squall didn't know how to answer that. A part of him wanted to curl up and go to sleep forever, to shut all of this out. His dreams were never as bad as the nightmares he'd lived while his eyes were open. Sleep had to be less painful or scary than what he would soon face.

"Do I belong here, Sis?"

"Yes," she said. "You belong here."

"I don't know what to believe."

"I know," Ellone said. "It'll get easier. Once you get used to being home, it will feel like you never left."

He couldn't imagine how that could be possible. Everything was different. He was different.

Ellone leaned in and kissed his cheek like he was still a little boy. He resisted the impulse to wipe it away in annoyance, but there was a part of him that appreciated it for what it was. His Sis, doing her sisterly duty, and to her, he was still a little boy.

He'd never felt more like a child than he did now.

"You're doing great," she said. "Should I send Rinoa in? Then we'll let you rest for a while?"

Rinoa was the last person he wanted to see. He didn't know what to say to her, and he was ashamed for a thousand different reasons – the shape he was in, his inability to communicate, his fear of her, Thalia – and it made more sense to avoid it until he could piece together his thoughts into coherent sentences before he tried to discuss it.

These were all things he hadn't even spoken to Ellone or Seifer about, concerns he hadn't voiced. The were things he needed to explain but had no words for, questions he couldn't speak aloud.

"I know," Ellone said as if she understood the struggle going on in his head. Hell, maybe she did. "Do your best. That's all I ask, Squall."

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded, though he doubted his best would ever be good enough.

"Sit tight," she said. "Be back in a few."

As if he could go far.

For the first time since he'd been found, Squall was completely alone. It was a strange feeling, to not have someone sitting beside him or some nurse or doctor asking questions and palpating his limbs. The silence was even worse, the only sound the hum of the air conditioning. In his lap, his hands clenched and unclenched as he took a long, slow breath to calm himself.

He had no confidence he would make it through this intact, but he had no choice but to try. If it all went wrong, he supposed insanity might not be so bad. It couldn't be any worse than what he'd already been through, anyway.

When the office door opened, Squall didn't look up. He recognized the sound of her footsteps and caught a whiff of grill smoke and perfume as she sat down beside him. Her hand reached for his, and Squall watched her take it as if from a distance, as if it wasn't really his hand but the hand of some stranger.

He barely felt her fingers twine through his and barely heard what she said to him. All his focus was on the thin threads of white light that emanated from her fingers and twisted up his forearm. A cooling sensation spread into his shoulder and he broke the connection, unsure of what he was seeing and feeling, or if it was even real.

Her hand lifted to his cheek, just a soft touch, but his skin crawled at the memory of Thalia touching him the same way and he shot to his feet and backed away in fear.

"Don't touch me."

"I promise I won't hurt you," she swore.

She reached for him, but Squall batted her hand away with a weak swat and braced himself for retaliation. The room around him spun, growing darker with each revolution.

"Squall - "

"Go away," he said. "Please just go away."

His vision grew fuzzy and the brush of her hands over his forearms turned his stomach, and the last thing he saw as panic overwhelmed him was Rinoa's wide brown eyes, her mouth opened in a scream he couldn't hear over the pulse throbbing in his head.

* * *

Seifer and Ellone walked back to the hotel instead of taking the limo. Neither saw the point, since almost everything in Balamb was within walking distance of the house and it was a nice evening. Ellone was compelled to walk off her anxiety, though Seifer's suggestion they find a bar and get wasted was tempting. She preferred the fresh air and the sound of the sea to intoxication, even though it had been a rough day.

Laguna stayed at the house with Squall. After Squall's freak-out on Rinoa, Laguna was afraid to leave him alone with her. It wasn't that he didn't trust Rinoa, but that he didn't trust Squall's reaction to her. He'd worked himself into a panic and blacked out the part where he'd taken refuge under the desk and screamed for twenty minutes before Laguna talked him down while Rinoa sobbed bitterly by the door.

Ellone had hoped their reunion would go smoother, that Rinoa would prove the salve Squall needed to heal the damage. That would not be the case, and Ellone feared that the rift between them was too great for either to bridge. They had a long way to go, much further than anyone had hoped. Seifer insisted all they needed was time, but Ellone wasn't so sure it would be that easy.

It was only reluctantly that Ellone returned to the hotel, and only because Laguna insisted she go and get some rest. There wasn't much she could do, and Rinoa's anger with everyone only made it more uncomfortable. Even after she'd been fitted with a spare Odine bangle, her hostility was intense, but they'd all earned it for their silence.

On the way back to the hotel, Seifer led her along a detour down an elevated, wooden nature trail through the dunes, the ocean on their left, hills of sand and clusters of wispy sea grass on the right. A thin sliver of moon hung low on the horizon, occasionally shrouded in puffy clouds as a distant storm fired up somewhere out above the sea.

Ellone was chilled in spite of the balmy air and she pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders as she wondered if bringing Squall home was the right thing to do. His reaction to seeing Rinoa was not what she'd hoped it would be, his refusal to acknowledge Ari too heartbreaking to think about.

Perhaps it might have gone better if Laguna had prepared Rinoa ahead of time, but that was Ellone's fault. She should have known Laguna would bungle it.

"He wasn't ready to come home," Seifer said.

He stopped walking, his eyes on the water.

"Pretty messed up how you can do something with the best of intentions and it winds up being the worst thing you can possibly do," he said to the moon.

"You think it was the wrong thing?"

"We made it worse, bringing him here."

"This was never going to be easy," Ellone said. "No matter how we went about it."

Seifer nodded at the horizon and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat.

"Come on," he said. "Let's head back."

Seifer accompanied her to her room, Ellone's invitation unspoken but understood, and he went to the mini-bar to retrieve a pair of bottles – wine for Ellone and a whiskey for himself and poured them into separate glasses. Ellone kicked off her shoes and laid her wrap over the small luggage stand by the door.

She accepted the wine, sipped it, and made a face. It was too dry for her tastes, but she drank anyway to take the edge off a long and stressful day.

"I think we should go take a look around Garden tomorrow," Seifer said as he tugged his boots off. "See what we can dig up."

"I doubt Thalia's moved in," Ellone said. "I don't think there will be much to find."

"Probably not," Seifer agreed. "I want to look anyway. It'll give you some training time if we walk."

Ellone agreed with a shrug, sipped her wine and set it aside as she drew her knees up to her chest.

"I want to be junctioned," Ellone said.

Seifer's expression didn't change, but something hard came to his eyes.

"Trust me, you don't."

"I know the risk."

"El, you have all these memories that the rest of us don't have," he said. "It doesn't take long for them to disappear."

"Plenty of things I wouldn't mind forgetting."

His eyes softened and he nodded, sipped his drink and looked away.

"That's the thing," Seifer said. "The things you want to forget are never the first to go."

Ellone knew a little about how GF's worked and what they did, how they feasted on memory and no one was sure why. She knew prolonged and excessive use could make a person eventually lose themselves over time, that it could strip away every memory worth having, but it might be the thing that gave her an edge over Thalia. It might be the only way to beat her.

"Besides," Seifer said. "Garden's got 90% of known GF's in their possession. They don't lend them out, so short of finding one in some cave out in the Centran wasteland, good luck getting a hold of one."

Ellone sighed and knew he was right.

"And don't go thinking that's the solution for Squall. It won't help."

"I'm not," she promised. She pushed the wine aside, unable to finish it and stood up. "I think I'm going to take a bath."

Seifer's dark mood visibly lifted, a ghost of a smirk replacing his frown. He caught her hand and tugged her into his lap to plant a slow, sensual kiss on her lips. Ellone relaxed into it as his hands began to wander, fingers plucking open the buttons on her shirt.

"Join me?" she asked. "There's room for two."

"Tempting," he said against her lips.

They both jumped when his phone rang. He scowled at the screen and cursed as he lifted Ellone back to her feet and stood up.

"Let me take this," he said. "Go ahead and start without me."

"Must be important."

"It's Kiros."

"Ah," Ellone said. "Say no more."

In the bathroom, she started the water in the over-sized bathtub and added half a bottle of the hotel supplied bubble bath. She undressed as the tub filled and a scent like honey and almonds wafted up from the warm water.

When the tub was three-quarters full, she turned on the jets and eased herself into it, her body relaxing against the built in rest and let the warmth wash away all the tension in her muscles.

She closed her eyes and felt like she was slipping sideways. She flailed against the unexpected shift and opened her eyes, but the room was so dark, she couldn't see her hand in front of her face.

"Seifer, turn the light back on, you idiot," she complained. "You're not funny."

No light spilled in from the partially open door to the bedroom, and she heard nothing in the space around her. The water grew icy cold and choppy and smelled of the sea.

The bottom of the tub dropped away and she dipped under the surface as a current too strong to fight sucked her further below. Above, a dim blue light beckoned, but the harder she struggled to reach it, the deeper she was dragged until there was no light at all, only the distant throb of a strobe somewhere too far away to truly penetrate the darkness.

Air bubbled from her lips as her lungs, acting on instinct, exhaled in anticipation of a new breath, but there was none to draw. She struggled to hold on to what was left and as adrenaline and panic flooded through her. The pulsing blue light was brighter now, closer, revealing the silhouette of a woman floating in the depths with her. Long, pale hair spread out around the woman's head like seaweed, the fabric of her dress nearly transparent around her legs.

Ellone's body screamed for air, her lungs on fire with the lack of it, and her vision dimmed as the woman drew close, mercury eyes flashing in the darkness like twin moons on a cloudless night. A pale hand reached out and grasped Ellone by the throat and in her panic, what little breath she had left burst from her lungs and she instinctively inhaled.

Her nose and mouth filled with seawater. It stung her sinuses, salt on her tongue, and her body jerked as she attempted to force it back out, but she only succeeded in drawing in more.

She was going to drown.

Thalia's cruel smile was the last thing she saw before her eyes fluttered closed and she was swallowed whole by darkness.

* * *

Seifer rifled through the pockets of his coat as he called Kiros back. He hadn't eaten much earlier and now he was in need of something to tide him over till morning. From the bathroom, he heard the water come on as Ellone started the bath and a throb of anticipation started low in his groin. He smiled to himself as the call connected and he punched in Kiros' extension.

"Is Laguna with you?" Kiros asked, skipping the greeting. "He's turned his phone off again."

"Give the guy a break, man," Seifer said. "This is a big deal."

"I take it you haven't seen the news," Kiros said.

"You know I don't watch that shit," Seifer said as he liberated a handful of Gil coins from the pocket of his jeans. "Why? Xenophobes calling for immigration reform again?"

"It's been an eventful few hours," Kiros said. "Someone set off a nail bomb in the shopping district. Twenty seven injured, four dead."

Seifer straightened, glanced at the open bathroom door and caught a glimpse of Ellone settling into the bath. He switched the phone to his other ear and opened the door to the hall to go raid the vending machine downstairs.

"The Avenue Mall is currently an inferno the fire department can't get under control. Two bank robberies, one in the financial district, one just outside the residential," Kiros continued. "No ID on the suspects, but witnesses say they were accompanied by, quote, _a shitload of spiders_."

"Hyne Almighty," Seifer said. "You're not kidding."

"Nor am I done," Kiros said evenly. "Dr. Odine has been missing since Tuesday, none of his staff has seen him and he isn't at his residence."

Seifer bit his tongue but smirked as he headed down the stairs. He'd nearly lost a finger duct taping Odine's mouth shut, but it had been worth it. Odine was probably still wandering out in the desert, naked, suffering from a wicked tranquilizer hangover and a nasty sunburn.

"That's a damn shame," Seifer said. "Hope he's all right."

"O Lab is leveled to the foundation about an hour ago. Seventeen dead. No survivors."

"Anyone claim responsibility?"

"I could give you three guesses, but you're an intelligent man," Kiros said, "I'm sure you already know."

"Blackheart make a statement?"

"No, but she did sacrifice one of her minions," Kiros said. "One Milo Coronas. Ring a bell?"

"Nope," Seifer said as he fed a few Gil into the vending machine and selected a candy bar. "He have anything interesting to say?"

"He tried to resist," Kiros said, "but he spilled what he knew after I showed him my collection of pliers."

Kiros sounded unusually pleased with himself and Seifer couldn't help but wonder if Ellone had put him up to it. It would be like her to enlist Kiros to throw out the word in general conversation, just to unnerve him. They'd only half discussed her family's reaction to whatever it was they were doing, and whether or not Kiros actually possessed a particular skill with the tool, they were all intensely protective of her. Or maybe, Kiros knew what they were up to and it was a not-so-subtle warning for Seifer to behave himself.

"Ellone isn't safe," Seifer concluded.

"Correct."

"She the reason they decided to terrorize the city?"

"I suspect it had to do with Laguna as well," Kiros said.

"If Blackheart got her hands on him, it's another way to hurt Elle," Seifer said.

"I believe so, yes."

Seifer peeled away the wrapper on the candy bar and took a bite as he headed back up to the room, taking the steps two at a time.

"So what do you want?" Seifer asked.

"Laguna must return to Esthar immediately," Kiros said. "I'll leave it to you whether or not you and Ellone return with him. Her safety is paramount, as I'm sure you're aware."

Seifer was more aware than anyone how much danger Ellone was in, but it had only occurred to him now that he could offer little protection against the likes of Thalia Blackheart.

"I'll have Laguna call you," Seifer said as he unlocked the door of the hotel room. "You guys can sort out the logistics."

"Of course. I'll be in touch."

He typed a quick message to Rinoa, asking her to relay the message to Laguna, then tossed his phone on the table as he shoved the remainder of the candy bar into his mouth as he kicked off his shoes. From the bathroom came a steady drip-drip-drip from the bath, and a sweet, heady scent wafted into the bedroom.

Though Kiros' news was troublesome, he had other things on his mind as he stripped off his shirt and pushed the bathroom door open wider.

It was too quiet.

"El?"

The tub was full and topped with tons of bubbles, foamy and inviting peaks that smelled of almonds, but the tub appeared empty, the surface still.

"Hey, Elle? Where are you?"

The towels were still on the rack, the fluffy white bathrobes still hung from the back of the door. Her clothing was still on the floor next to the bath mat. Seifer stepped further into the room, and something in the fogged mirror moved behind his reflection. He turned, expecting Ellone to leap out of the closet to surprise him, but there was nothing behind him but the empty bedroom.

The dark granite tub was full, the surface still and topped with tons of bubbles, foamy and inviting peaks that smelled of almonds

That was when he noticed the note on the floor.

Scrawled on the paper in red ink were two words:

_I'm sorry._


	17. Chapter 17

17

* * *

Ellone was floating, the dark so perfectly black, it was as if she'd never seen true darkness until now. It weighed heavy on her, thick and viscous and carried with it a whiff of mildew and rotting wood. She stretched out her hands in search of something, anything to hold onto, but her fingers combed through nothing but the warm, musty air.

Eventually, the bare soles of her feet touched something solid and the odor of decay grew stronger. The space around her lightened to the color of gun smoke and the haze cleared by degrees. She faced two dirty windows smeared with small hand prints, the view outside just the vaguest suggestion of a mountainous landscape in the distance.

On the floor in the corner sat a small girl with pale, stringy hair that fell to the floor in matted tangles. A thick, rusted chain wrapped around her wrists and her cotton nightgown was dirty and stained. Next to her was a bucket and a jug of water.

The girl was no older than six or seven, a pale, skinny little waif who hid her face in her knees. Ellone didn't need to see that face to know who she was.

"B is for bananas and butterflies and bread," the girl sang, the tune childish and most likely made-up. "Blueberries and birds and beds."

Around her, the room erupted in light, butterflies of all colors flitted around the room on trails of stardust. The girl turned her face up to them with pale sliver eyes full of delight, and she reached out her hand to brush her fingers against velvety wings. Ellone stared around at the spectacle in awe, as rapt as the child in the corner by the array of colors.

It was deceptively innocent, this magic. A simple and childish wish to be surrounded by pretty things, to be bathed in sunlight while trapped in darkness, but Ellone did not miss the way some of the butterflies were misshapen, with too many legs or wings, with dark spots and extra antenna. Slowly but surely, they began to change, the bright blue and violet and green darkened into shades of anthracite and coal, and Ellone was almost certain she'd caught a glimpse of a blinking human eye embedded in a wing, a human finger where a leg should have been.

One by one, the butterflies dropped like leaves to the ground and turned to ash. The false sunlight faded and turned a sickly yellow as the walls began to crawl with insects. Strange, monstrous faces appeared in the shadows.

On the floor, the girl shivered and tears spilled down her cheeks. She ducked her head once more, shaking and fearful of the things she'd created.

The battered, wooden door behind Ellone opened and in stepped a woman in conservative, old-timey dress. Her pale hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her face and eyes severe as she gazed around at the malformed insects and shadow demons, and she crossed herself as if that would thwart the illusion. In her hand was a thin rod made of wood.

"Please Mama," the girl said. Her pale gray eyes were plaintive and afraid. "I didn't mean it."

"Do not address me so familiar, demon," the woman said. "I am not your mother."

The shadows peeled themselves away from the wall. They were strange, misshapen little beings with crooked limbs and spines, and as sad as they were terrifying.

"I'm hungry, Mama," the girl said.

"You'll go hungry until the demon parts with your soul," the woman said. "Not before."

"Please!"

The woman grabbed the girl by the hair and pushed her face down on the floor. Ellone squeezed her eyes shut as the woman struck the little girl's bare legs and back and arms with the wooden rod. Then, Ellone covered her ears when the girl's howls turned to sharp shrieks of pain as the wood met her flesh over and over.

"I'm sorry, Thalia," the woman said. "It's the only way. It's the only way to make it stop."

Tendrils of darkness curled around the woman's legs and the room dissolved around her and Ellone was floating again, her body shifting in cold currents of the sea. Overhead the moon was a thin sliver hung like a pendant against a spangled navy backdrop. In the distance, she saw herself and Seifer, hand in hand on the boardwalk in Balamb, but heard Seifer's frustrated voice in her ear:

" _Goddammit Elle, breathe-"_

* * *

Squall was resting comfortably on the couch in the office, the kids were both finally asleep, and Rinoa sat on the back porch, a hard-earned drink in hand. In the living room behind her, Laguna was having a tense conversation with Kiros, snippets of which Rinoa could hear through the door. There was a mess to clean up in the kitchen, but she didn't give a damn about that. Leftovers were the least of her problems.

From where she sat, she could smell the last roses of the season, a sweet yet cloying perfume on the night breeze. As always, the scent made her think of Squall and how he'd spent half a day digging holes for her to plant them. It made her remember how dazzled he seemed by the mix of colors when they bloomed – thick, waxy petals of hot pink and crimson, vivid yellow and orange, blood red, baby pink, salmon – the beauty in chaos and disorder.

She sipped her drink and tried to quiet all the questions and worries in her head, unsure of what tomorrow would bring. After she'd calmed down enough to be rational, Ellone had provided some of those answers, but the things Rinoa needed to know were those that no one knew the answers to.

What did they _do_ to him?

The man in the office was not the man who had left for a routine training mission two years ago. That Squall had been calm and confident and put together. The one who had come home wasn't just a little broken – his captors had shattered him.

Ellone had said Squall was lucky to be alive, that he'd been worse than this when he'd been found. Rinoa couldn't even imagine how bad off he must have been if that was true. She couldn't imagine him twenty pounds lighter or any less lucid than he was now.

At least he was still alive. Rinoa had been deceived, but her consolation was that Squall lived, and that was much, much more than she'd expected so long after the fact. He was in terrible condition, both physically and emotionally, but his heart still beat and there was at least some small part of him that remained intact. Rinoa had seen evidence enough of that when he'd spoken with Ella.

He'd stepped back into the role of being a father without hesitation, but it was as if Ella was the only thing he truly recognized. Everything else, he avoided looking at directly, as if he feared he would be blinded.

In the fantasies Rinoa allowed herself in those moments between waking and dreaming, her imagined reunions with Squall were always tearful and emotional, but filled with laughter and joy. They would laugh at the misunderstanding and hold onto one another and promise to never let go again.

She'd gotten it half right, but it wasn't the half she preferred.

Squall was alive, but the man they'd brought back to her was a mess who could barely walk more than a few steps unassisted and he was so afraid, he'd hidden from her and refused to look at her. But he _was_ alive and that was more than she'd believed possible. Surely, if his heart still beat, he wasn't a lost cause. If he was still breathing, there was still hope for him, for their marriage and their family.

Right?

Squall was broken, but alive, and Rinoa's mind turned these facts over and over again, as if trying to convince herself it was true.

Behind her, the patio door opened, but Rinoa didn't look to see who it was until they flopped onto the step beside her with a tired huff.

Zell's eyes were red and in one hand, he held a pair of unopened beers, a half finished one in the other. He didn't say anything but turned his face up to the sky and leaned back into the step.

"I should go home," he said.

"Stay if you want," she said. "Hyne knows, I probably won't sleep."

"Doesn't seem appropriate anymore, does it?"

"I don't care what's appropriate," Rinoa said. "You're family and you can stay if you want."

"...family," Zell said bitterly. "Not really, though."

"Zell -"

"Don't mind me," he said. "I'm drunk and thinking out loud."

"Zell -"

"I'm really glad he's home, Rin," he said. "You have no idea how happy I am for you, 'cause that's all I wanted was for you to be happy."

"I want you to be happy, too," Rinoa said.

"Mmm. Maybe I'll just adopt some cats and be done with it," he said with a chuckle. He raised his bottle to the sky. "You can get me that ugly bathrobe for my birthday."

"Done," Rinoa said. "It'll be the ugliest."

They sat in silence for a long time. Zell finished his beer, opened another and drank half of it before he spoke again.

"He looks like shit," Zell said. "I can't even imagine what he went through. I mean, we're trained to take it, but... not like that."

Rinoa's throat tightened and she stared at the ice in her glass.

"I'm gonna head home," Zell said. He sat up, finished his beer and got to his feet. "Don't worry, I'll walk."

"The couch is free if you want it."

"Not with Laguna in there yelling and leg-cramping all over the place," Zell said. He leaned down, placed a kiss on top of her head. "I'll swing by in the morning before I open the garage."

As he made his way back up the steps, Rinoa caught his hand.

"I'm grateful, Zell," she said. "For everything."

"I know."

It was a long time before Rinoa decided to go back inside and check on everyone. Laguna was still on the phone, quietly disagreeing with Kiros or whoever he was talking to.

"...he's my _son,_ " Laguna said. "...No, I'm not saying that – Kiros, you're the VP. Handle it, okay? I need to be with my family right now and – Kiros, listen to me. I don't give a shit what they're saying. I've given a good chunk of my life – then tell them I resign! Tell 'em I quit!"

Rinoa turned to him in surprise as he paced the room, gesticulating wildly in a way that would have been comical in another situation.

"I'm serious as a mule with three hind legs," Laguna said. "If the council doesn't understand that I need to be here then I'm am 100% done with all of it – don't tell me to be _reasonable_!"

He held the phone away from his face and shook his fist at it.

"I'm hanging up now," Laguna said.

He tossed the phone onto the couch and sat in a heap with his head in his hands. Rinoa didn't pretend to know what was going on in Esthar, and she didn't care. All she saw was Laguna finally stepping up when he was needed most, and that counted more than any political drama he might be expected to deal with.

Rinoa took a seat beside him and reached for his hand as her anger took a backseat to the fact that he wanted to stay. It would do Ella and Ari good to have their grandfather around for more than a couple days at a time, and it would do Squall good to see his father actually be there.

"We did what we thought was best for him," Laguna said. "I know you don't agree with the way we went about it, and maybe we were wrong, but you have to believe we only had his best interests in mind."

Rinoa could have stayed angry with him and she could have continued to make him feel terrible for not being up front, but the truth was, they'd saved him. They'd brought him home alive and Rinoa was more grateful for that than she could say.

"I know," Rinoa said. "You should have told me from the start."

"I didn't want to give you false hope, Rin," Laguna said. "I couldn't hurt you like that."

False hope was better than no hope at all. False hope would have kept her from donating his things or packing away all the evidence he'd called this place home. It would have kept her from falling apart when she was alone, from that split second of despair when she reached for him at night and remembered he would never be there again.

"I'm glad you didn't give up on him," she said. "It would have been worse to find out he was alive and no one looked."

Laguna wiped strands of hair from his eyes and nodded.

"That was what I was most afraid of," he said, "that if we gave up, he'd turn up dead for real. I would have regretted that more than I regret lying to you."

"Is he going to be okay?"

Laguna shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "I've heard it's a thousand times easier to lose your marbles than it is to find 'em all again."

Rinoa laughed in spite of herself. It might have been a made-up phrase, but at least it made some sense. An apt analogy; Rinoa was not a stranger to losing a few of her marbles. The days following the war had been tough for a while. Nightmares about space and killing and being sealed and the strange and terrible things she'd seen in Time Compression, those things had haunted her for a while.

Even now, she struggled with confinement. Even now, closets and dark confined spaces brought on an irrational terror - sealing, the space suit, Time Compression. Those things hadn't left her, even after all these years.

What Squall was going through was a thousand times worse.

"He's going to need you," Laguna said. "Even if it doesn't seem like he wants you there, he _needs_ you to be there and love him the same way you loved him before."

Laguna's voice broke and he scrubbed at his eyes, sniffled a little and patted her knee. It was no wonder he looked older. He'd been stressing over this for more than two years and it showed.

"You don't have to worry about that," Rinoa said. "I never stopped."

Laguna nodded, looked at his phone and stuck it in the pocket of his shirt.

"I've made arrangements to have some equipment delivered tomorrow," he said. "For now, I think the office is the best place for him, until he's ready to go upstairs..."

He left that hanging between them for a while, and Rinoa knew what he meant, and it wasn't just about stairs.

"And I've hired a nurse," he continued. "He still has some medical issues that need to be monitored closely, and he needs a therapist, whether he wants one or not."

"What about physical therapy?" Rinoa wondered.

"Only person he's listened to so far is Seifer," Laguna said. "I have half a mind make him an offer to work exclusively for me, since it looks like I'm not the President of Esthar anymore."

"Did you really quit or were you just being dramatic?"

"If they demand I come back now, I quit," Laguna said. "For good. I can't be in two places at once, and I don't want to leave him. Not like this."

* * *

Seifer stared at the note, on his knees beside the tub. A cold, clammy feeling crawled over his skin and he grew nauseous as his eyes followed the whorls and swoops of Ellone's handwriting. The ink had bled in places, the lines thicker and uneven on the edges.

_I'm sorry._

Twice before, he'd seen those words scrawled in the wake of tragedy. Once, in the cell where Squall had supposedly died, the second Cid's final goodbye.

_I'm sorry._

He bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, but that was better than what he wanted to do, which was pound his fists against the floor and scream. The light from the decorative wall sconces pulsed brighter, an electrical buzz in the walls as he rose to peer into the water.

On his knees beside the tub, Seifer pushed aside the mounds of bubbles with his heart in his throat, but there was nothing there.

"Elle?" he called. "The hell are you?"

He rose to his feet and did a 360 sweep of the over-sized bathroom, glanced into the tub a second time, confirmed she was not in the shower on the other side of the room, and ran a hand through his hair as he considered the possibility she'd somehow sneaked past him. He pulled the drain plug on the bathtub and frowned down at the bubbly water.

Seifer returned to the bedroom. Her purse was still here, her suitcase on the floor and unopened and the bed was still made. He opened the closet and found the usual assortment of hotel room items – hangers, an iron and ironing board, dry cleaning bags.

"Elle?" he called as he shut the closet and turned to face the bed. "You can come out now."

He worked his way toward the far side of the bed to open the curtains and froze as he glanced to his right.

Ellone lay motionless on the floor, wedged half under the bed with an open prescription bottle in her hand. Her eyes were half-slits, and there were drying tear stains on her cheeks, her lips were parted and too-pale and a shade closer to gray than flesh. One hand curled against her chest like a claw and her hair was soaking wet and smelled of almonds from the bath.

A sound halfway between a growl and moan escaped Seifer's lips as he seized her by the elbows and dragged her out from under the bed. Half a dozen small pink pills spilled over the carpet as the prescription bottle rolled away from her grasp and Seifer seized it up.

_Tranquillizer, .35 mg_

_Leonhart, Squall_

_Take one by mouth every 4 hours. Do not exceed more than 3 doses in a 24 hour period._

She wasn't breathing. Seifer laid two fingers against her throat and found no pulse, so he tried her wrist and pressed an ear against her chest.

Nothing.

Seifer opened her mouth and swept his fingers along the back of her throat to clear her airway and recoiled as something moved against his fingers, something _alive._

He nearly vomited when he realized what it was.

A fucking spider.

He pinched it between his fingers, gagging, withdrew it, and with a flick, sent it careening across the room. All the hair on his arms stood up as he returned his attentions to Ellone.

Her skin was slippery and cold under his palms as he began chest compressions. He counted off thirty, then bent down to force a breath past Ellone's lips. Her mouth tasted of sea water instead of soap, and a soft rattle came from her lungs with each puff of air.

"Come on, Elle," he breathed. "Help me out here."

He continued the compressions, trying in vain to keep a cool head as minutes ticked by without a response. Bile rose in the back of his throat, fear that she was going to die on his watch. And that was unacceptable.

"Breathe," he whispered in her ear. "Goddammit Elle, breathe!"

Thirty more compressions, five more breaths and his arms began to ache from the effort. Then thirty more, breathe and start over. He kept going until he couldn't any more, breathless himself, his muscles on fire and his brow damp with sweat.

It had been too long. Ten minutes, plus however long she'd been on the floor.

With a muttered swear, he bent down and cradled her head in his hands to press a kiss to her lips – not a goodbye, but a prayer, a plea for her heart to beat, for her to open her eyes and laugh because he'd fallen for the ruse. If she was gone, he wouldn't be able to look himself in the mirror. He might not have been in love, but there was enough affection between them that it would matter if she left him.

He swept a hand over Ellone's forehead to brush away wet strands of hair and for the first time since the Lunatic Pandora, Seifer felt truly powerless, helpless, a slave to a force he couldn't control. A hacking sound burst out of him as he lifted Ellone into his lap, clutching her to him as tightly as he could.

"Stay, Elle," he said. "Please stay."

It occurred to him he should call someone, the hospital, Laguna, anyone, but he couldn't bear to get up or let her go. Once more, he pressed his lips to hers to breathe for her, her body small and frail in his arms.

Ellone sucked in a great breath of air, sputtered and began to cry. Seifer lifted her up from the floor and carried her into the bathroom to lean her over the edge of the bathtub as she started to cough. A second later, she vomited up half a gallon of water, along with what could have been a dozen or more tranquillizers into the emptying tub.

Seifer pulled her hair away from her face and stroked her back to soothe her, relieved to feel her heart beating against his palm. Emotionally and physically spent, Seifer pressed his lips between her bare shoulder blades as she leaned her cheek against the cool surface of the tub's edge. She was pale and shaking, but she was alive. Another minute or two, and she wouldn't have been.

Bile rose in the back of Seifer's throat and he bit it back and focused instead on steady throb of Ellone's heart and the rise and fall of her breath.

When he closed his eyes, though, his head swam and he couldn't hold back.

Seifer let her go, bolted for the toilet and vomited into the bowl. The sickness didn't last long, but it was enough to leave him shaking and chilled to the bone. He rose when he was sure he wouldn't get dizzy and retrieved one of the robes from the back of the bathroom door. He wrapped Ellone in it and crouched over her, his fingers seeking her pulse again. She trembled, her eyes far away as she clutched the robe for warmth.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"...dreamed of drowning," she said breathlessly.

"You fell asleep?"

"...no."

Seifer sat on the floor beside her and studied her pale face. Ellone huddled in the robe, still shivering. He slid an arm around her shoulders and dropped his chin to the top of her head when she curled into his side.

"How many of the tranquilizers did you take?" Seifer asked.

"I don't remember taking any," Ellone said dully. "I don't even remember leaving the bath."

Seifer took her by the chin and peered into her eyes. Her pupils were disproportionately large, her gaze distant and unfocused. She'd barfed up a good bit of what was probably a lethal dose, but it was still poison in her bloodstream.

"Hyne, Elle," Seifer said. "You're high as a kite."

"Elixir in my bag," she said.

Seifer ignored that for the moment and picked up the note from the floor.

_I'm sorry._

"You write this?"

"I don't know."

Her eyes slipped closed and Seifer let it go. She was in no shape to answer questions tonight. As impatient as Seifer was for answers, it was probably for the best to give her the elixir and let her sleep the rest off.

One thing was clear - there was a _really_ good chance Cid had been murdered.

* * *

_Where am I?_

Squall opened his eyes and studied the room around him. The only light in the room was from a small lamp on the desk, but as he blinked sleep away, he remembered he was in his office at home.

In a nearby lounge chair, Rinoa had curled up with a book but she'd fallen asleep, the book laid open in her lap to mark her place.

… _Rinoa's fallen asleep reading again. She's slumped over onto the armrest, one hand on her book, the other curled next to her face. She's waited up again, waiting for him to come home, and he's late again. He wakes her with a kiss and sets the book aside, and she gives a sleepy hum of happiness at his touch. Squall can't believe she's his. He keeps waiting for her to leave, to say he's too cold and closed off, that she doesn't love him, but she's still here..._

Squall bundled the blanket around him tighter and watched her sleep, trying to reconcile what was true and what wasn't. His wife or not? Best friend, lover, mother of his child? If he was here, weren't those things real? Would they bring him home if she'd moved on? Would she have held him so tight or cried so hard if she didn't still love him?

If those things were true, why did it hurt so much? Why he did he fear her touch, her gaze, her entire being? If he belonged to her, why had he recoiled from her embrace?

"Because you're not mine anymore," he said aloud. "Are you?"

In the chair, Rinoa stirred, uttered a soft groan and shifted. The book slid to the floor with a thump, and she sat up and retrieved it, marked her page and set it on the coffee table. She spared him a glance as she settled back down and sat up when she saw him watching.

"Did I wake you?"

"No."

She ground at her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ears. Squall couldn't think of a thing to say to her, after all the days of missing her, all the confusion, pain, hunger, visions – there were no words that would make sense, nothing he could say to explain the mess inside his head. It was hard to look at her and not feel terror and shame and anger, hard not to see her in Zell's embrace, or with Thalia's eyes peering back at him.

Squall always maintained that if something happened to him, he would be okay if she moved on. There was no reason to expect her to live out the rest of her days pining for him. That wasn't fair, but now that he was confronted with that possibility, he found he'd just been lying to himself. The idea of her in someone else's arms cut deep, and a thing he wasn't prepared to face.

"I tried to read, but I just sat here watching you sleep," she said. "I was on page 235 when I sat down, and I'm still on page 235."

She bit her lip and looked at her lap. In the weak light, her eyes shimmered with tears. Squall could never stand it when she cried and the impulse to get up and stop them before they started was strong, but the impulse to duck and cover was stronger.

"I have no idea what to say to you," she said. "I'm so afraid I'm going to upset you or hurt you, or that you're going to scream if I do... But god, I missed you Squall. I missed you so much... I don't even know how to deal with this or what to feel or do or what you need."

The tears spilled over and Squall's throat tightened. What he needed was time, proof that he wasn't insane, that he hadn't slipped into some wish-fulfillment fever dream and find himself at the mercy of Thalia's alternating cruelty and kindness. He needed proof she wasn't Thalia, that this really was home, that she still loved him as broken and weak as he was.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked.

The answer was yes, but also no.

A memory he'd nearly forgotten surfaced as he stared at the shining tear tracks on her face. Rinoa, standing on a dive boat half a mile from Balamb Beach, her body clad in a wet suit, tears and sea water on her face, his temper short with annoyance and lack of understanding for the way she'd panicked under the surface.

_...he's taught her everything she needs to know in shallow water – how to use the respirator and how to clear her mask of water, and she demonstrated proficiency and confidence, an eagerness to share with him his favorite hobby. He thought she would be fine._

_Beneath the waves, the world is calm and quiet and full of beautiful and mysterious things. The hustle and noise of daily life drops away on the reefs below, and he wants to share this with her. He wants her to see the intense blue of the water below, the way the fish school together and how the coral grows in clusters on the rock in shades of salmon and red and how the sway of the seaweed in the current is hypnotic and peaceful. He wants her to understand why he enjoys it so much, but five feet down, she'd panicked._

_She won't explain as she strips off her fins and wet suit, and her hands tremble as he repeats his question._

" _What happened?"_

_She shakes her head and sits down on the bench and refuses to say a word. Squall's annoyance grows hot and he starts the boat without a word to pilot it back to harbor. For the rest of the afternoon, she's too quiet and when he asks she just shakes her head and walks away. He doesn't understand her silence or the look on her face, but he wants to. If he's done something wrong, he needs to know so he doesn't do it again._

_It isn't until bed time that she apologizes._

" _It was too much like space," she says. "I was fine in the shallow water, where I could just put my feet down and stand up, but the deeper we went, the more scared I got and I ruined our day, and I'm sorry -"_

_Squall hasn't seen the similarity until now, but she's right. The near weightlessness, the lack of light, the full body suit, the dependence on a tank for oxygen – it isn't the same, but he can understand why it might be to her. He'd jumped after her willingly. She'd come out of a coma of possession to find herself floating in darkness without air and with little to no memory of how she'd gotten there._

" _It's okay," he says. "I didn't even even occur to me."_

" _I'm really sorry, Squall," she says. "I wanted to do something you enjoyed and I messed it up. Forgive me?"_

" _Nothing to forgive," he says and pulls her close to kiss her forehead. "And you don't need to apologize. We'll find something else, okay? Just – next time, don't make me wait the whole day. I can't read your mind."_

_Her lips curve into a small smile and she draws a hand over his cheek, kisses his lips and sits back to peer up at him._

" _That's the point I've been trying to make for two years now," she teases. "Frustrating isn't it?"_

" _Please tell me you weren't trying to prove a point."_

_She leans into his shoulder, a warm weight that's more welcome than she knows._

" _I was just mad at myself and I couldn't shake that horrible feeling, like I was going to die..."_

"Squall?"

He focused on her face and blinked the memory away.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"...no."

But what was there to say?

* * *

Seifer barely slept. He'd been awake most of the night, fearful that Thalia would try again, that he would be the one she turned her gaze on next if he closed his eyes too long. As dawn peeked around the edges of the curtain, he gave up on trying and instead listened to the tap of rain against the window as he counted Ellone's breaths.

He'd come too damn close to losing her. Seifer wasn't a man easily shaken or thrown off guard, but this was a battle he didn't know how to fight. He had no weapons and no defenses against Thalia's kind of magic. Any other adversary would be met with physical force, his body a shield to protect Elle from harm, but he had no defense to offer her.

That left a sour taste in his mouth. His entire life, he'd relied on brute strength and his fire-chi and it had served him well over the years. He wasn't used to losing or being the weak link, but in this case, he was. There was nothing he could do to keep Ellone safe. Thalia had stripped him of his potency to the point of helplessness. All he could do was peel Ellone up off of floors and clean her up after an attack and that wasn't good enough.

Seifer muttered a curse under his breath as a distant clap of thunder rattled the windowpane. At his side, Ellone stirred and rolled toward him, seeking comfort or warmth or both. Unconsciously, he mirrored her behavior and brought her close, her head tucked under his chin. The faintest trace of almonds lingered on her skin and his gut twisted in anger.

_I almost lost you._

And goddammit, he cared too much. Seifer had never meant to get this emotionally involved. He'd cared a little in the beginning because she was Sis, but this went beyond a childhood attachment he barely remembered. She'd stopped being an older sister the second she'd proved herself less a damsel in distress than a fighter who never got the chance to be one.

She burrowed into his chest with a soft hum and a sigh and Seifer slung his free arm around her waist, grateful for her soft breath against his skin. It could have been so much worse...

"Did I wake you?" she asked.

"I was already awake," he said. "You were snoring like a geezard."

"I was not."

She smiled against his shoulder, and nuzzled his neck. A dull but welcome warmth bled through him and dimmed the darker thoughts that had kept him awake.

"I didn't dream at all," she said. "I can't remember the last time that happened."

Seifer pressed his lips to her forehead and held her close for a while, listening to the steady beat of rain against the window.

"I think you should go back to the White SeeD ship," Seifer said after a while. "You'll be safer there."

Ellone pulled back and looked at him.

"I'm not safe anywhere," she said.

"Maybe Edea knows some enchantment or protective thing that can keep her out," Seifer said. "She's got to, right? I mean, they've avoided detection so far."

"She might," Ellone agreed, "but me being on that ship means all the kids on the ship are in danger, too."

"Edea's a target."

" _I'm_ the target," she said. "Otherwise, she wouldn't have tried to take me out."

"You're a threat," Seifer said. "There's a difference."

"They're not mutually exclusive."

"Why didn't she try that shit with Edea?"

"Either she can't get in, or she can only manipulate those she's met," Ellone said. "As far as we know, Cid brokered the deal. Edea wasn't involved."

Seifer reached out and brushed his fingers through her hair, frustrated there wasn't some way around Thalia's reach. There had to be somewhere Ellone could go where she wasn't in danger of possession, or whatever it was Thalia did, or some way to block her from getting in.

"How the hell am I supposed to protect you?"

"You can't," she said.

"I'm not gonna watch her take you apart piece by piece, El," he said. "You _died_ last night. Your heart stopped beating. And she's not going to stop until she succeeds. I can't stand aside and just let that happen."

"It's really noble of you to want to protect me, Seifer," she said. "But I'm not made of glass."

"I know that," he snapped. "But you're not exactly unbreakable, either."

Ellone sat up and drew her robe around her shoulders.

"You're the only person who hasn't treated me like I'm going to blow away in a strong wind," she said. "Don't start now."

"Yeah? And what happens next time?" he demanded. "When you wake up with your face busted open or she makes you jump off a fucking cliff?"

Seifer got out of bed and went to the bathroom to throw cold water on his face before he said something he regretted. None of this was Ellone's fault.

There was a long, low pulse of thunder as he returned to the bedroom. He felt it in the soles of his feet as the concussion rattled the walls. From the sound of it, a nasty storm was on its way. Any chance of taking a look around the defunct Garden today was slim unless the weather cleared, especially after what happened the night before. Seifer wanted to distance Ellone from anything that might put her at risk.

"You're welcome to leave at any time," Ellone said. "We found Squall -"

"What, so I'm not needed anymore?" Seifer fired back.

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"You inferred," Ellone said. "But if you need to walk away, I understand. No hard feelings."

"Are you kidding me?" Seifer murmured and stared at her in disbelief. "You're really doing this, El?"

Ellone rolled her eyes, got to her feet and stared up at him. One eyebrow lifted and her arms crossed over her chest, and the look she gave him was one Seifer absolutely detested on other people. It was a look that on instructors and superiors had always made him want to do his worst, to be his worst, just to prove that Seifer Almasy took orders from no one.

"Quit being dramatic and sit down," she ordered.

She would have made a good leader. Her tone implied she would tolerate no less than unquestioning obedience, but Seifer was torn about whether or not to give it to her. For several seconds, they stared at one another, Ellone's gaze a stern but cool _do not mess with me_ glare, and Seifer itching to find out how far he could push before she tossed him out of her room on his ass.

"Sit down," she said, quieter this time.

For some reason, Seifer obeyed. He sank into a plush wingback chair by the window and held out his hand to indicate for her continue.

Ellone perched on the edge of the bed, her expression less stern, but still cool. She eyed him with an uncharacteristic shrewdness and Seifer felt a little like a schoolboy under a stern instructor's disappointed gaze.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked. "Just let her destroy you?"

Her nostrils flared and she looked away from him, toward the closed curtains where dull, gray light spilled in but did little to brighten the morning. She pulled the robe a little tighter and stared at the wall.

"I don't know," she said. "But if you can't deal with it, it's okay to split. Most people do after a while. I'm used to it."

"The hell I'm gonna do that," Seifer spat. "I'm not a quitter."

"Then you're going to have to be okay with not being able to help me," she said.

"So, I just stand by and watch?"

Ellone nodded.

"Fuck," he muttered. "You know how hard that is for me?"

"I have some idea," she said with a small smile.

Seifer, overcome with something greater than desire, got up and sat beside her on the bed. He took her face in his hands, his anger forgotten. All those years of telling himself he didn't want to be anyone's hero, yet here he was, wishing to be hers, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to save her.

* * *

Squall couldn't remember the last time he'd sat and watched the rain fall. It wasn't the sort of thing he'd paid much attention to unless Rinoa pointed it out, but now, as he sat on the back porch the scent of it overwhelmed him. Wet earth, fresh, clean air, and a cool humidity on his skin – for the first time in too long, Squall was aware that the world was a place full of beautiful and miraculous things he'd never taken a second to appreciate.

He was alone on the porch. Rinoa had gone to her office at the bookstore, Ella was at school, and Hyne knew where Laguna was, but Squall was glad not to have someone staring at him with pity from the sidelines.

Inside the house, there wasn't a single picture of him on the shelves or the walls. They were all of the kids, Zell, Selphie, but there were none of Squall. Before, he wouldn't have cared, but now it seemed a clear indicator that the world had moved on without him. The life he'd known before Thalia was gone, all traces of himself erased from their lives.

What that meant was one more question Squall couldn't bring himself to ask.

The rain fell harder and the sky darkened, but Squall stayed where he was and waited for it to all come crashing down. He waited for the world to blast apart, for everything around him to dissolve into confusion and for Thalia to appear with her cruel smile and mockery because she'd sold him one more lie.

When it hit, it was more of an implosion.

His heart knocked against his ribs painfully and his eyes burned, but nothing happened. The rain kept falling in a steady beat against the porch rail, the sky remained a heavy leaden gray and Squall's wrists bore the scars of restraint, but were free of the chains he could still feel locked tight around his skin.

He closed his eyes and waited out the quiet meltdown, counting backward from 100 until the tightness in this throat loosened and his eyes stopped searching for a threat. He was alone, and the hedges needed to be trimmed, the yard needed to be mowed, and the roses along the back fence were a bright spot of color melting in the rain.

Laguna joined him with an offering of sweet tea and a sandwich. The dark-haired toddler sat on Laguna's hip, the evidence of the boy's most recent meal smeared on Laguna's cheek. Squall turned his face away as the boy regarded him with big, serious eyes from behind the curtain of Laguna's hair.

"You want to go inside?" Laguna asked. "It's getting chilly out here."

"I'm fine," Squall assured him.

"Wanna hold Ari for a while?" Laguna asked. "Get to know your boy?"

Squall shook his head, but Laguna either missed it or ignored it and plunked the kid into Squall's lap.

"Eeet," the kid said and reached for the sandwich Laguna had left on the side table.

"You just ate, kiddo," Laguna said. "That's daddy's sandwich."

Squall didn't care about the sandwich. He didn't care about anything but the rising panic in his chest as the kid stared at him. He saw nothing of himself. No telltale Leonhart traits to confirm the kid was actually his, just Rinoa's dark eyes and a bunch of features Squall didn't recognize.

The boy reached for Squall's face, and Squall flinched as a small, sticky hand patted his cheek and mouth. He felt zero emotional connection with the boy, no deep seeded recognition of the sort Laguna claimed the first time he'd laid eyes on Squall. All he saw was a cute toddler and nothing more.

Still, Squall couldn't ask. The answer he feared might make the numbers in his head add up to infidelity and that was something he couldn't handle right now.

"Looks like Rin donated all your stuff," Laguna said. "Once we get you all settled in, I guess we'll have to go shopping and get you some real clothes."

Rinoa had all but erased him from her life. No ring on her finger. No pictures on the shelves. His clothing had been donated, not that they would fit now anyway, but there wasn't so much as a t-shirt or a pair of socks left behind. There was nothing left of his old life.

Maybe, that was for the best. Laguna insisted it wasn't, but the the more he saw of home, the more he understood he wasn't a part of this world anymore. The only thing he was sure still belonged to him was Ella.

From a legal standpoint, Rinoa had ceased to be his wife the second Cid and Dr. Kadowaki signed the papers declaring Squall dead.

He was not her husband. She was not his wife. And for the hundredth time since he'd walked in the door twenty-four hours ago, Squall wondered what the hell he was doing here.


	18. Chapter 18

* * *

Squall woke to the scent of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon. For the first time since he'd been rescued, he was _hungry_. It was a good sign that he was on the mend physically. Food had held no appeal until now, but that might have been due to the slow transition from liquids and soft foods to real but bland fare while in critical care.

He sat up and peered around the half-dark office around him to confirm he was home, suppressed a yawn and stretched his still too weak muscles. He'd made some progress, but he wasn't seeing the kind of bounce-back he'd hoped for. Even with Seifer's brutal and exhausting training sessions, his body resisted every effort.

From across the room came a girlish giggle and Squall froze in terror. He wasn't strong enough to fight back yet, but he braced himself anyway, prepared to use whatever was at his disposal as a weapon. As his heart began to knock against his ribs, a familiar face framed in dark hair peeked over the arm of the couch and greeted him with another giggle.

"Ella?"

"G'morning dad," she said. "Uncle Zell's making everybody breakfast. S'posta wake you up."

Squall wondered who everybody was. Then, he wondered what Zell was doing here so early, but a glance at the clock said it was after nine. Maybe it wasn't inappropriately early, but Zell being there at all irked him. Just the sight of his old friend brought out too many fears and concerns about what they'd gotten up to while he was supposed to be dead.

Ella slid up onto the bed and tucked herself under his arm. That was enough to quiet the bitter suspicion for the moment, and Squall allowed himself a second to appreciate that at least one person still loved him unconditionally.

"I can feel all your ribs," she said and ran her hand up and down Squall's side. "How come you're so skinny?"

They'd had this conversation before, or some version of it. Anyone else and he would have been annoyed, but his patience for Ella was nearly endless. Instead of telling a lie, he spoke around the truth.

"There wasn't much food where I was," he said. "When you don't get enough of the right nutrients, your body loses too much muscle and fat and you get really sick."

Earnest blue eyes peered up at him. "Are you sick?"

"A little bit," he said, "but I'm getting better."

"I saw on TV they said you were 'prisoned," she said. "Like, in jail."

Squall bit down on the inside of his cheek and tensed. He slid a hand over her hair and shifted toward her, unsure of how to explain it. So far, he'd been unable to talk about this with anyone, the worst details of his time in captivity locked away and inaccessible, even to himself.

To know his story was now news was upsetting, and to know Ella had seen it was worse.

"It was sort of like that," he said.

"Grandpa said you got hurt real bad."

"He's right," Squall said. "I did."

Ella frowned and leaned harder into his side.

"How come everyone won't tell me stuff?" she asked. "Mom says I shouldn't worry about it, but I can't help it."

Ella had always been too curious for her own good. Never one to accept the quintessential _because I said so_ , Squall should have known better than to think Ella would accept vague answers to her questions.

"Sometimes, bad things happen and you don't know why," Squall said. "Sometimes, there aren't answers that make any sense. Your mom -" he paused over the word, mom instead of mommy, a sign of how much Ella had grown, "not even your mom or your grandpa knows what happened. I don't remember all of it myself."

Her hand slid over his and a small finger poked at the stub of his pinkie. Maybe, it was best to tell the truth, rather than spare her. The more she knew, the less she would worry, the fewer questions she would ask. The problem was in how to phrase it so she could understand it, without scaring her with the gory details.

"I... was captured by some bad people. They hurt me, starved me and kept me as a prisoner," he said over the ache in his throat. "They made everyone think I was dead. But, Seifer and your Aunt Ellone were very, very brave and came to find me."

"Were you scared?"

"Yeah," he said and kissed the top of her head. "I was really scared. But I thought about you every day, kiddo. Every day."

Ella sniffled and her chin quivered, and Squall couldn't stand it. He was familiar with her tears, but to be the cause of them hurt him to the core. His eyes burned as he hugged his daughter, not as tight as he liked, but enough to prove to her he was there and not entirely destroyed.

"I'm sorry they were mean," she whispered.

Mean didn't cover it, but he nodded and let her poke at his ribs again.

"I thought you were never coming home and that Uncle Zell would be my new dad," she said. "Cause he was sort of like a dad and mom likes him a whole lot, and he even acts like me an' Ari are his kids."

A dagger to the kidney couldn't have hurt worse than that did. For a second, Squall couldn't speak.

"Did he spend a lot of time here?" Squall asked, taking care to keep his voice calm while inside he was screaming.

"Yeah," Ella said. "He cooked and cut the grass and stuff. And after Ari got born, he and mom would sleep together because Ari woke up so much."

A sharp tremor shook him from head to toe and his skin grew cold. Ella meant actual sleeping, but for Squall, her statement only heightened his suspicion.

He told himself it was okay, that if that's how it was, if Zell was what Rinoa needed to get through it, then it was okay, but Hyne, how it hurt.

It could have been worse. He could have come home to find she'd married some stranger, but it still burned him. In a more rational state of mind, Squall might even understand the choice. Zell was her best friend, and from everything Squall had heard so far, Zell had been there for her through the worst of it.

But jealousy was a mindless beast and the thought made him want to vomit. Not knowing the truth was eating away at him, but he couldn't make himself ask a seven year old for clarification on the definition of _sleeping together_.

"Ella, can you grab my cane for me?"

She hopped up and retrieved it, brandished it like a sword and swiped at the air, fighting imaginary monsters. Squall couldn't help but smile as he watched her graceless performance, all arms and legs and no coordination.

"Did you know T-rexaurs have three sets of teeth?" she asked. "Uncle Zell took me to see them at the Garden before it closed. It was really cool."

"I bet," Squall murmured. "I thought they were pretty cool when I was young, too."

"You don't think they are now?"

"One tried to eat me for dinner," he said with a smile and reached for his cane. "So, no, not so much."

"Did it bite you?" she asked, wide eyed.

"It did."

"What did you do?" she asked. "Did it hurt? Were you scared?"

"I beat it up," he said, "and it hurt, and yeah, it was pretty scary."

He tapped her lightly on the tip of the nose with the tip of his finger. She giggled and threw her arms around his waist to hug him tight.

"I love you, dad."

"Love you back, kiddo," he said, "for ever and ever."

"And ever?"

"Yep," he said. "Promise."

He let her go and stood cautiously, using the cane to balance. If he could have taken Ella's hand, he would have. So far, it seemed she grounded him to reality when everything else had him reeling away from it. Who would have guessed a seven year old would be an anchor when all the pervasive fears threatened to sweep him away?

"I hope uncle Zell didn't eat all the bacon already," Ella said as he followed her to the door.

Squall didn't comment. All his focus was on the effort it took to keep up, and on biting back the anger at the mention of Zell's name.

Out in the hall, the scent of bacon was stronger and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. He had to remind himself, hunger wasn't something to be dreaded, not an ache that would not be satisfied, but a thing to look forward to.

"We're going to eat at the big table," Ella informed him. "And mom says I can eat there too."

Funny how the simplest things were such a big deal to a child, and Squall found himself looking forward to re-discovering those childish delights he'd never gotten to experience himself. Through Ella, he'd learned the joy of simple things – dandelion fluff and ladybugs, sand castles and sea shells, and he was glad she hadn't lost her wonder in the time he'd been gone.

In the dining room, the table was set for eight, with a ninth setting a high chair for the boy wedged between the head of the table and the chair to the right. Squall froze as anxiety bubbled in his stomach, and peered at the faces staring back at him. His father beamed, Seifer offered a solemn nod, but it was Ellone that stood and pulled out the chair for him at the head of the table.

Ella took the chair to his left as Ellone returned to her place beside Seifer.

"Selphie, if you don't stop messing with my pancakes I'm going to beat you with my spatula!" Zell's voice bellowed from the kitchen.

"Geez, what crawled up your butt?" Selphie retorted. "I'm only trying to help!"

"Irvine, kindly remove your woman from my workspace before I hurt her."

"Selphie is as Selphie does, my friend," Irvine said.

"Grrrrr!"

"Come on darlin'," Irvine said. "Let's leave the man to his work."

"But!"

Squall braced for one of Selphie's ferocious and bone crushing hugs as he heard her complaining behind him, but only received a sullen greeting as she flounced across the room and flopped into a chair. She stared at him with wide eyes, her lip jutted out, petulant and sulky.

He hadn't laid eyes on her in over two years, and not much had changed. She still wore her hair the same way, and she still looked like she was twelve.

"Wow," she finally said. "You _do_ look bad. I really wanna hug you, but they told me not to."

"Thanks," Squall said, for lack of anything better to say.

Irvine greeted him with a pat on the shoulder and a misty-eyed smile.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, my friend. Real good to see you."

Irvine leaned down to kiss Ella on the cheek and she wiped it away, giggling.

"Cooties," Ella said.

Irvine covered his heart with his hand, pretending offense. Across the table, Seifer smirked.

"Smart kid," he said. "Just remember that, Ella. All boys have cooties until you're a consenting adult."

Ellone's hand snapped out and smacked him upside the head. Her frown was met with a toothy grin, even as Seifer rubbed the spot where she'd struck him. Squall didn't entirely disapprove of Seifer's comment, but that subject was one best avoided until Ella was a little older.

"What's consenting mean?"

Squall's hand met his forehead as Seifer's belly laugh echoed through the room.

"It means to give permission," Ellone said. Squall didn't miss the way her elbow hit Seifer in the ribs.

"For what?" Ella asked. "Cooties? Or kisses?"

"Kisses," Ellone said. "What your Uncle Seifer means is that someone should always ask permission to give you a kiss, and only when you're older."

Much older, if Squall had any say in it. Maybe never.

Squall relaxed and sent Ellone a glance of gratitude. She returned it with a knowing smile.

"What about Dad?"

"Do you feel like you need him to ask if it's okay first?"

"No," Ella said.

"Then he already has permission," Ellone said. "But it's like we talked about for school. If someone does something you don't like or if it makes you uncomfortable, what do you do?"

"Use my words and tell them to stop."

"You remember," Ellone said with approval. "It's very important to speak your mind, especially when you're not comfortable with something."

"Pbbbtt," Seifer interjected, laughing hard behind his hand.

Squall wondered if there was some double meaning there, a hint that Ellone knew there were things weighing on his conscience and of all those suspicions and worries bouncing around inside his skull. She cast him a quick glance, her smile gone.

Just then, Rinoa appeared at his side and plopped the boy down in the high chair and strapped him in. The kid wiggled and grunted, not unhappily as he grabbed a lock of Rinoa' s hair.

"Ma?"

"Uncle Zell's almost got your breakfast ready," she promised him as she placed a sippy cup in his hand. "Some yummy bacon and eggs and pancakes. Doesn't that sound good?"

"Num-num," the boy agreed.

Rinoa straightened, offered Squall a soft smile. He flinched as her hand brushed over his arm, her touch inexplicably repulsive. He swallowed down the awful crawling sensation in his limbs – ghost spiders or gentle hands or his imagination, but the hurt in Rinoa's eyes was very real as she lifted her hand away.

"Want some coffee?" she asked.

"Doc says he probably shouldn't have any just yet," Laguna said as he set aside his phone. "Something about sensitivity?"

"I'll have some," Squall said, just to spite Laguna. Squall might be fucked up, but he was not so bad off he couldn't decide for himself. "Just cream."

Zell breezed in with a tray laden with piles of food and set it down in the middle of the table. He lifted a small plate off of it and placed it on the tray of the high chair, pinched the boy's cheek and beamed as the kid lifted a bit of pancake to his mouth with a happy grunt.

"Eat up, little dude," Zell said. He turned, took Squall's plate and offered a friendly smile. "You want the works? Eggs, bacon, pancakes?"

Squall just nodded, unable to say a word to him.

_He's not your enemy. He didn't do anything wrong._

But that crawling sensation was back, and Squall grew short of breath as he watched Zell fill his plate.

_He shouldn't be here._

Squall's vision went cloudy as the room shifted around him. Images flickered in and out, sounds, colors, faces all blended together like melted wax. He was home, but the walls around him were those of his prison, the words _I'm sorry_ scrawled in blood along the baseboards, rusted chains looped from the ceiling. He was home but he was in hell and he could see himself from a distance, as if standing on the sidelines watching himself implode.

_...mine now...made love to your wife...in your bed..._

_...you saw what you wanted to see..._

Zell stood before him and offered the plate, his grin ugly and sharp-toothed and triumphant.

"She _loved_ it, Squall," Zell crowed. "Couple extra strips of bacon, for protein."

Squall pressed his lips together, clenched his hands around the edge of the table and prepared for impact.

* * *

Seifer watched Squall carefully from his place at the table, a hand pressed to the bruise Ellone's elbow was sure to have left. All appeared fine, Squall a little on edge from so many people in the room, but he seemed to be dealing with it, and better than Seifer expected.

When Rinoa appeared, Seifer's hope that Squall would power through it was lost. The second she put the little one in the high chair, Squall's eyes went a little shifty. Then, when Zell showed up, Squall's cagey nervousness turned to outright panic. His hands curled around the edge of the table, knuckles white with tension and all the color drained from his cheeks.

It wasn't easy for Seifer to hold his tongue around the pint-sized ball of repressed rage that was Zell Dincht, but Seifer had managed so far. Seifer hadn't exactly been polite, but he'd put a lid on his usual selection of insults. It took all the fun out of it, but for Squall's sake, and because Ellone had insisted, Seifer bit back every biting comment that came to mind.

Seifer didn't hate the guy. It was just way too much fun to lob a few zingers Dincht's way and watch him overreact. Seifer didn't hate him, but something about his presence was about to send Squall over the edge.

Under the table, Seifer gave Ellone's hand a squeeze, interrupting her conversation with Selphie about wedding colors or some other inane crap. Ellone read him loud and clear.

"Squall, are you all right?"

"...fine."

Terse, strained, almost a whisper and a total lie. Squall bit down on his bottom lip as Zell placed a full plate in front of him. When Squall unclenched his teeth, he'd drawn blood.

Seifer stood and went to Squall's side. Fingers that were previously curled around the table's edge were now wrapped tightly around eating utensils like he anticipated using them as weapons.

"Why don't we get some air, man?"

Seifer helped Squall to his feet and made sure he had a good grip on his cane, then led him outside to the back patio. It was chilly outside, but Seifer figured the hooded sweatshirt Squall wore would be warmth enough for a few minutes of chat.

This had been Laguna's idea, to gather everyone together for a quiet welcome home breakfast. Seifer had advised against it. Squall wasn't ready for a big group of people, especially not people like Tilmitt and Dincht with their loud, over enthusiastic, in your face behavior. If what Squall was going through was anything like what Seifer had experienced, sensory overload was a problem, and he would either retreat or explode.

Seifer's concerns had gone ignored, but Squall had just proven him right.

Squall went to the patio railing and leaned heavily against it, pressed his head to his forearms and balled his hands into fists.

"...88...87...86...85... shit."

Seifer could have asked if Squall was okay, but he didn't. He already knew the answer was no. Squall was not okay and Seifer suspected coming home unprepared had not been the best idea either. It had only been a few days, but Squall was no better off here than he'd been in Esthar. If anything, he'd taken a step backwards.

"What happened in there?" Seifer asked.

"...nothing."

"Bullshit," Seifer said. "You might have everyone else fooled, but I'm not buying it."

Squall straightened, his hands clenched around the rail as he glared out at the yard.

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth," Seifer said. "Whatever that was, it wasn't _nothing_. For about ten seconds, it looked like you were about to slice Dincht's face off with your butter knife."

Squall turned toward him, his face blank.

"Don't pretend you know what this feels like," he said. "You don't know."

Seifer squared his shoulders and stepped toward Squall, peering down at him through narrowed eyes.

"The hell I don't."

"You were under Ultimecia's control for what, a few months?" Squall said. "Ten years ago. What the hell do you know about what _I_ went through?"

Something in Seifer snapped. He reached out, seized the front of Squall's sweatshirt and yanked him forward, half lifting him off the ground. Seifer didn't give a shit about hurting or scaring him or making things worse. Squall didn't have the right to assume Ultimecia's hell had been any easier than Thalia's or that the consequences of their two year search didn't have an impact.

"Shut your mouth, you ungrateful little shit," Seifer said. "Elle got hurt every single time she connected with you. She had seizures because of it, and a few nights ago she almost fucking died because of that bitch! So don't you dare stand here feeling sorry for yourself. You're not the only one who suffered."

Squall peeled Seifer's hand away, stumbled back and bumped in to the railing, that same wild look in his eyes from before. He slid down to the ground and ducked his head against his knees, shaking, but Seifer wasn't done.

"You know _nothing_ about what Ultimecia did to me," Seifer said, "or what she left behind, but if there's anyone here has a clue what it was like, it's _me_. You don't want to talk about it, fine, but you gotta do the work, and that means accepting help when it's offered 'cause speaking from experience, the shit going on in your head isn't going to fix itself."

Behind him, the door opened and Ellone stepped out, wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The hard look she gave Seifer said she'd seen their confrontation, and Seifer was on her shit list.

"What's going on out here?"

"Just having a chat," Seifer said. "No need to concern yourself, El."

"I'll be the judge of that," she said. "Squall, are you okay?"

"...fine," Squall said into his knees, "...just talking."

Ellone crouched down, laid a hand against Squall's arm and peered at his face. Seifer backed off as she murmured soft words Seifer couldn't hear, but stood a minute later and turned on him, eyes flashing. She seized his arm and pulled him back inside without a word, and into the office where she shut the door before saying a word.

"What did you do?"

Seifer shrugged. "It wasn't my finest moment, okay? Let's leave it at that."

Ellone shoved him, hard. Seifer almost stumbled, and his back hit a bookcase, rattling the curios on the shelves. Her anger was almost palpable. Seifer could almost feel it, radiating off her in waves, and he found himself a little turned on by the heat in her eyes.

"What did you _do_?"

"Hyne, Elle, what's with you knocking me around today?"

"Don't change the subject," she said. "You _will_ explain to me why you felt it was necessary to verbally and physically assault a man who can't fight back."

Boy, she had a temper on her. This was a side he hadn't seen much of, and never directed at him. It was kind of hot, but her words made him feel like a world class jackass.

"Motivation," Seifer lied. "Trying to give him a good, hard kick in the ass. Always seems to work."

"You took it too far," she said.

"Elle-"

"Don't ever do it again."

"It looked worse than it was," he said. "I know you go all protective mama bear where Squall is concerned, but I spent a lot of years with him, more than you, and I know him better. I know what makes him tick, and this coddling bullshit y'all are doing is only making it worse."

"Coddling...?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him, small but formidable and one smart-ass comment from laying him out. "What right do you have to tell me how I should treat my own brother?"

Seifer's chest hurt. He didn't know why.

He stepped away from the bookshelf at his back, into her personal space and glared down at her. She didn't flinch or back off, not that he expected her to.

"Two years gives me the right," he said. He ran his thumb over the faded scar between his eyes. " _This_ gives me the right."

"I know your intentions, as misguided as they were, were pure," she said stiffly, "but maybe you should let his family deal with this now."

The word family rang loud and sharp in Seifer's ears. _Family._ Of course, she included herself among them, blood ties or not. Of course she did, yet ignored the possibility that in their youth, Seifer's role in Squall's life might have been that of an older brother if Squall had ever allowed him to be one.

"His family?" Seifer asked. "Then I guess that means you need to get your ass back on the White SeeD ship, huh?"

Her cheeks flushed red and her nostrils flared and Hyne, her fury sent a toxic blend of defiance and lust through his veins. He had half a mind to grab hold of her and kiss her senseless.

That was, until her hand snapped out and her fist collided with his nose. Pain flared through his entire face and his eyes watered, her blow harder than he expected, but then again, he'd taught her, and she was a great student.

"You know, in the beginning, I thought you were an arrogant, heartless idiot," she said as she cradled her bruised knuckles. "Great job proving me right."

Seifer's nose throbbed. In his pocket was a potion, but instead of reaching for it to ease the pain, he peered at Ellone through a haze of blurry moisture in his eyes.

"Thank you for your help finding Squall," Ellone said, all the warmth gone from her eyes. "Maybe it's for the best that we part ways so I can focus on my family now."

_Family._

It was never more clear that Seifer wasn't a part of that family. After years in Laguna's service, after the two years spent in search of Squall, and after all those times he'd cleaned her up after one of her encounters with Thalia, Seifer was only the help and a good lay.

So be it.

Seifer didn't need a family anyway.

* * *

After Seifer left, red-faced and his eyes wounded but cold, Ellone allowed herself a few minutes alone in the office to cry. Damn Seifer for making her like him, and for being the kind of man he was. Damn Cid, Edea, and even Laguna for too many reasons. All Ellone wanted was for Squall to get better, to find the happiness he'd lost. There was no quick fix for that, but certainly yelling at him wasn't the way to go.

She collected herself, dried her tears with the edge of her shawl and squared her shoulders. The last thing she wanted now were questions, and evidence that Seifer had upset her would lead to a few. She doubted anyone would be surprised, but it would be too tough to explain.

Out in the dining room, most of the group sat around the table, nervously picking at their full plates. Irvine and Ari were the exceptions, and Rinoa wasn't there. Zell had moved into Squall's spot to tend to Ari, and as his worried baby-blues fixed on her. Ellone didn't have to ask to know he thought he was the cause of Squall's upset. He might have been the trigger, but he wasn't the problem.

"Go ahead and eat," she said. "I'll see if Squall is ready to join us."

"Rinoa's with him," Selphie supplied.

Under normal circumstances, that would ease Ellone's mind, but she'd seen the way Squall reacted to his wife, and Rinoa's presence would do Squall little good right now. Ellone had an inkling why he feared her, but he wasn't talking about it, so she couldn't be sure unless she invaded his mind. And she wasn't going to do that unless he asked.

Outside, Rinoa sat on the deck a short distance from Squall, tears on her cheeks and her hands balled in her lap. Neither looked at the other, and the silence was thick as Ellone stepped out the door. Rinoa looked up, wiped her tears and gave a helpless shrug. Beside her, Squall had collapsed in on himself, his head hung between his knees and his arms crossed over the back of his head protectively.

Ellone's heart broke for them both and she inclined her head toward the door for a private word with Rinoa. Rinoa stood, brushed off her skirt and followed Ellone inside, and burst into tears the second the door was closed.

"What am I supposed to do, Elle?" she cried. "It's like he doesn't know who I am."

"He does," Ellone promised as she took Rinoa's hands. "But it's going to take some time for him to remember you're not a threat."

"Why would he think that?"

"I'm really not sure, but Thalia may have used you as a way to hurt him," Ellone said. "What she wanted most was to break him and he put up a good fight, Rin, but the illusions she creates are so real, it's hard not to believe them."

Rinoa choked on a sob and her face collapsed. Ellone glanced toward the dining room to ensure no one had come out to eavesdrop.

"You don't have to answer this, but did something happen between you and Zell?"

"What?" Rinoa looked up sharply, less offended than fearful. "Why would you ask that?"

"Something I saw while I was in Squall's head. Something Thalia showed him."

"I..." Rinoa began. Her hand drifted up to her throat, in search of something that wasn't there. "Does a drunken kiss count? That's all it was, a kiss, but -"

Rinoa's face crumpled again and her shoulders shook with silent sobs. Ellone let go of her hands and drew her into a sisterly embrace, allowing Rinoa to cry into her shoulder for a few minutes.

When Rinoa finally stepped back, she sniffled and turned toward the window and looked out to Squall, who still sat curled in on himself.

"We both agreed, it was wrong," Rinoa said. "We were having a good time, we were both drunk. I just... needed someone. I feel so guilty now, if I'd known..."

Ellone understood her reasons, and she would not have blamed Rinoa if there had been more. Ellone was no stranger to loneliness, two of her three affairs prior to Seifer borne out of a desperate need to kill her longing for physical contact. Seifer himself fell halfway into that category, but she couldn't lie and say it had been completely physical.

"I'm not judging you," Ellone said. "Or Zell."

"It'll break his heart," Rinoa murmured at the window. "And Zell... Hyne, Elle. He deserves better."

It took Ellone a second to figure out what that meant, but when she did, she could have cried for all of them. As if things weren't complicated enough, Zell had gone and fallen in love.

"I'm sorry, Rin," Ellone said. "I wish we could have brought him home sooner."

"I should be grateful you brought him home at all," Rinoa said. "This isn't what I expected, even when I imagined a worst case scenario."

"None of us did," Ellone said. "But, if it's any consolation, you and Ella were always on his mind. Even when Thalia did her worst, it was you he thought about."

"If she ever crosses my path, I will kill her faster than you can say Shiva," Rinoa promised. "I won't even bother to make her suffer the way she made him suffer."

Ellone had a lot of thoughts about Thalia, especially knowing what she knew of the woman's history. True, she sided with Rinoa's sentiments, but less out of hatred than mercy. Empathy for someone so cruel might not have made sense to anyone else, and it certainly hadn't made sense to Seifer, but Thalia's cruelty was learned and not her true nature if those early childhood memories were real. Her family, Odine, and probably others, seeking to contain or exploit her power had made her that way.

It wasn't such a stretch to believe Ellone could have turned out the same way if her circumstances had been different. Her biological family had loved her in spite of her gift. They'd given their lives to protect her, Raine had offered her refuge in spite of the danger, and Laguna had crossed continents to bring her to safety.

From what Ellone knew of Thalia, no one had ever showed her kindness. No one had ever stood up to fight for her or defend her. Thalia had never known love, and Ellone could not imagine how lonely that must have been. How awful for a child to grow up that way, to be nothing more than a thing to fear, a test subject, or to be exploited for her talent.

That left Ellone conflicted, on one hand sympathetic and on the other full of wrath for trying to kill her and for how she'd inflicted her own pain on Squall. Thalia was beyond salvation, damaged to the point of insanity, and a swift death would be the best possible outcome.

"Why don't you go sit down and finish your breakfast?" Ellone said. "I'll see if I can get Squall to come inside, okay?"

Rinoa nodded, wiped her eyes and returned to the dining room. For a minute, Ellone observed Squall through the window. From here, he looked so small, so much like the little boy she remembered. She'd been so proud of the man he'd become. To see him broken hurt worse than anything so far.

She stepped out and sat beside him, unsure of what to say to bring him around or ease his fear. The wrong words might drive him deeper into his funk, or might even undo what progress had been made.

"I'm sorry," he said into his knees. "I'm sorry, El."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I couldn't be in there, with all of them, with everything," he said. "It was too much."

"I know," she said. "And that's okay. We just wanted you welcome you back and make you feel at home. I guess we didn't consider that it might be too much at once."

"Just give me a minute," he said. "I'll go back in."

"Do you want to talk about what happened with Seifer?"

"My fault," Squall said. He lifted his head and ground the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I brought up Ultimecia."

That explained a little. It didn't take a genius for anyone to figure out it was a sensitive topic, one that Seifer nearly always refused to discuss. It didn't make Ellone any less furious with Seifer, but his behavior made more sense.

Squall shrugged one shoulder and folded his forearms against his knees. He leaned his head back against the support post at his back and closed his eyes, his face turned up to the morning sun. There was more color in his face, but to Ellone, he was still too gaunt and pale for her liking. Not for the first time, she wished there was some magic or some potion that would restore him to his former health.

"This should be easier than it is," he said.

"You mean all of it, or just Rinoa?" Ellone asked.

"All of it," he murmured. "I can't stop... seeing things."

Ellone watched his face in the sunlight and waited for him to continue. Sometimes, with Squall, the best way to get him to talk was to say nothing and wait. He would talk eventually, if he needed to.

"I know most of it isn't real," he said, "but in the moment, it is. It's like she's still getting inside my head."

It was possible she was, but Ellone didn't voice her agreement. Squall did not need anything else to add to his anxiety.

"What did Seifer mean when he said you almost died the other night?" Squall asked.

"Hyne, I'm going to kill him," Ellone muttered.

"Was he exaggerating?"

"No, not really," Ellone said. "I don't know what happened. One second, I was dreaming of drowning and the next I was vomiting up pills. Seifer found me beside the bed."

"...was it because of me?"

"It was because of me and what I am."

"What was Seifer doing in your room?" Squall asked.

Ellone cast him a sideways glance. "You really want the answer to that?"

"...probably not." He shook his head and examined his palms, the stub of his pinkie, and said, "Why?"

"Why Seifer?" Ellone asked and Squall nodded. "Convenience, maybe, or maybe because he's not afraid of me, or just because you get to know a person really well when they have to clean blood off your face every other day..."

"I'll kick his ass if he hurts you, Elle."

Ellone grinned and elbowed him gently in the side. "How do you plan to do that?"

"I could do a lot of damage with that cane," Squall said seriously.

"Squall's got jokes," Ellone said with a grin. "There's hope for you yet."

It was even funnier when Ellone realized he was dead serious. Still giggling, she leaned over, kissed his cheek and dropped her head to his shoulder.

"It's going to get better, Squall," she said. "I know it's tough, and I know things are confusing, but just remember, we're here for you, okay? Anything you need, even if it's just to talk, say the word and I'll come running."

Squall's cheek pressed against the top of Ellone's head and he lifted her hand to his lips, the way he used to when he was little, after Edea hand explained to the boys what a gentleman was. Ellone couldn't believe he remembered, when there were so many other, bigger things he'd forgotten.

Maybe he wasn't so lost after all.

Eventually, she convinced him to go inside, but she suspected it was only because of the cold. She helped him to his feet and held the door as he hobbled inside, and she noticed, he barely put any weight on his damaged leg.

The dining room table had been cleared, but the scent of bacon still hung in the air. Zell had put Squall and Ellone's plates in the oven to keep them warm, and Ellone poured them coffee and carried both plates to the office, where they ate in silence – her appetite gone, but Squall's more voracious than Ellone anticipated.

Unable to stomach anything after her fight with Seifer, she offered Squall the bacon and the stack of pancakes from her plate, and he ate those too. It was good to see his appetite return, after nearly a month of putting up a fight over taking that extra bite every single meal.

When Squall lay down for a nap, Ellone decided she needed to talk to Seifer, now that her fury had cooled. If he hadn't left already, that was. It wouldn't be a surprise if he'd grabbed his things and jumped on the next train out without so much as a goodbye.

She walked back to the hotel along the beach path and regretted it. The wind coming off the sea was crisp and cold, and sharp enough to cut through her sweater and her shawl. She set a fast pace, but by the time she returned to the hotel, she was chilled to the bone.

Before returning to her room, she stopped at the self service tea cart in the lobby and brewed herself some strong, black tea in a paper cup. It warmed her hands as she stepped into the elevator, and once the doors closed, she leaned her face over the steam and breathed in the fragrant scent.

To her surprise, Seifer sat on the bed when she entered, his suitcase open beside him and a pile of belongings he'd left in her room next to it. He wasn't packing, he was just sitting there, staring at the clouds beyond the window.

"Hi," she said.

He grunted his response, but didn't turn to look at her.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," she said. "Forgive me?"

"Don't worry about it," he said. "It's no big deal."

"If it's no big deal, then why are you packing?" she asked as she stepped closer.

A shrug was the only answer he had to offer.

"Can we talk?"

He looked at her then, his face devoid of expression. "What's there to talk about, El? You made your position pretty clear."

Ellone slipped into the chair by the window and sipped her tea. A sulking child could not have looked any more morose than Seifer did, with his slump shouldered posture and the pouty set of his lips.

"You're going to have to explain what you mean," she said.

"What you said about family," he said to his shoes.

"Family?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" he asked.

Ellone thought back to what she'd said and winced, ashamed she'd missed what had gone unsaid, but was obvious now. Seifer thought of Squall as a brother, as family, even though they had never been what most would consider close. There was a bond there, even if neither acknowledged it. They'd spent half their lives in competition together, training together, spilling each other's blood.

What Seifer knew of family was limited to the orphanage and his friendship with Raijin and Fujin. There must have been some part of him that craved it, or else her comment wouldn't have hurt him.

"I didn't think when I said it," she admitted, "and I didn't mean it the way it came out."

He got up and went to the window, one hand pressed to the glass and the other braced against the sill.

"I can't help but wonder why it was Squall that always wound up with everything I ever wanted," he said. "It's stupid, but I've always wondered what I did, why I got the short end of the stick."

"I don't see you as the _house in the suburbs, wife and two kids_ kind of guy, Seifer," Ellone said, doubtfully. "Maybe that's just the image you project, but is that really what you want?"

"Naw," he said. "Most kids drive me up the wall, and who the fuck would have me anyway?"

"Is that what's bothering you?" she asked.

He shook his head at the window and his eyes followed the line of clouds on the horizon.

"Will you tell me? Or do you want me to leave you alone?"

Seifer returned to the bed and sat slumped forward, forearms braced against his thighs. With the toe of his boot, he poked aggressively at a loose fiber in the carpet.

"I don't even know where to start."

"Did he say something that upset you?"

"I just don't like it when people assume that I should be over Ultimecia's bullshit," he said. "That shit doesn't go away. Ever."

Ellone already knew this. She'd heard him cry out in his sleep too many times to count. She'd heard him startle awake, gasping and breathless or with a choked sob in his throat.

"You know he's drowning in his own head right now," Ellone said. "Nothing outside of that compares."

"Yeah, well, whatever."

Ellone got up and went to the bed and took his face between her palms. There was shame in his eyes when they met hers, a raw vulnerability she never expected to see in his face.

"There's no time limit on trauma recovery, and nothing that says anyone's experience is any easier than another's based on circumstances," she promised. "Sometime things get better, but never entirely go away. Even if other people don't get that, Seifer, I do."

He buried his face in her stomach and his arms came up around her waist to hold her tight. Ellone stroked his head and back, his whole body tense. His breaths came hot and heavy against her stomach and his grip on her tightened. For a few minutes, Ellone was sure he was going to cry, but when he pulled away, his face was flushed, but his eyes were dry.

Seifer drew her down into his lap and kissed her tenderly, almost hesitantly, his hands in her hair. This was his apology. He would never say he was sorry; he could only show it. Ellone was okay with that, so long as he meant it.

Clothing came away a bit at a time, with none of Seifer's usual urgency, and he made love to her with her face cradled in his hands. His eyes stayed on hers the whole time, as if to say, _see me, don't leave me, I'm sorry_.

It had never been like this, never quite this gentle or loving, yet it was still somehow passionate, but in a very different way. If this was how he apologized, Ellone didn't think she'd mind so much if further apologies were required and she told him so later, when they lay face to face on the same pillow. The shy, boyish smile she got in return took ten years off his face.

Seifer couldn't seem to stop touching her, not that she minded. His fingers slid over her skin as if he were a blind man memorizing every curve and plane of her body. It said so much, without a single word spoken aloud. If he wasn't in love with her, he cared, and he cared deeply.

"Once this is all over, assuming you can still stand me, I think you should move in with me," he said as he watched his fingers trail along her hip. "In Esthar."

Ellone propped her head up on her hand and looked down at him in surprise. This, she hadn't expected.

"Are you saying you want me to be your girlfriend?" she teased.

"No, I'm saying I don't want you to hide yourself away on that damn ship."

Moved by his honesty, Ellone leaned down and kissed his lips, then pulled back to see the barely concealed hope in his eyes.

"Can I think about it?"

Seifer scowled and turned away to glare at the ceiling.

"Oh, geez," Ellone sighed. "I'm not saying no, you giant man-baby. I said I need to think about it."

"What's there to think about?"

"Plenty of things," she said. "Like, are we at a place where we're ready for that? I mean, the only real date we had, you cooked me dinner, and that was nice, but a girl needs a little romance, you know?"

Seifer's eyes shifted toward her and he struggled not to smile.

"Romance, huh?" he said. "You want me to work for it?"

"Absolutely."

"You'd think a guy who saved your life would get a free pass," he said. "If cleaning barf off your face isn't romance, I don't know what is."

"That definitely earns you some points," she agreed. "But, I wanna see some flowers and candy, candle lit dinners in expensive restaurants where the menu is in a language I can't read and has a wine list that goes on for days. I want luxurious vacations to exotic places, _jewelry_ -"

He pressed his hand over her mouth, unsmiling but his eyes full of mirth, and he flipped her onto her back, crushing her into the mattress with his full weight.

"Shut up," he said. "I know you, and you are just fucking with me right now, aren't you?"

Ellone nodded behind his hand.

"Think about it," Seifer agreed. "In the meantime, have dinner with me."

She pried his hand away from her mouth and shuddered as his lips found their way to the spot behind her ear.

"Out in public? Or are we talking room service?"

"Either's fine with me."

"So, a real date?" she asked. "I get all dressed up and we have dinner and you take me dancing?"

Seifer frowned. "I don't think I mentioned dancing."

"I've never been," she said.

"Never?"

"Nope," she said. "Closest I've ever gotten was a dance with Laguna at Squall's wedding. Didn't go so well."

"Well, I guess we're just going to have to fix that, huh?"


	19. Chapter 19

Droplets of rain trailed down over the glass of the car window as Squall stared out at the dreary February morning. It rained almost every day since his return, and today, the forecast called for sleet and possible snow flurries in the afternoon. The world beyond the window melted and bled into a blur of gray and steely blue and silver, and it suited Squall's mood.

His muscles ached, and his fingers and toes half numb with chill, but it wasn't his body that suffered anymore. Too many nights that sleep wouldn't come, too many nights where he dreamed of horror, and his days, a drowsy fog spent in a blend of fear and indifference. He napped between Seifer's unyielding training sessions and forced trips to the therapist.

He never talked about the things that happened. Not about the physical pain, and not about the rest. Not to anyone.

Today wouldn't be any different. He would sit on the shrink's couch and stare out the window as he was asked questions he couldn't respond to. There was nothing to say, and talking about it wasn't going to fix him.

The driver parked the car in the lot beside Balamb Memorial and turned off the engine. Beside Squall, Laguna stared through the glass at the dreary, dark sky, a defeated slump in his shoulders.

"This isn't helping at all, is it?" Laguna asked.

"No."

"You have to say something if you're going to get better, son," Laguna said. "You have to talk about it. If not with this guy, then with someone. I don't care who it is, but you've got to get it off your chest."

The only thing Squall needed was the occasional tranquilizer when the anxiety got the best of him. That and Seifer's unapologetic bullying during training. And Ella's chatter about school and karate class and Ellone teaching her to bake.

The rest, Squall was violently unsure of. His fears now had less to do with whether or not any of this was real, and more to do with whether he belonged here anymore.

How it could feel so different than he remembered? The warmth he recalled was gone. It was like whatever part of their lives that made the house a home perished in his absence. Now home was just a building with walls and a roof, where everyone retired to their separate bedrooms at the end of the night.

"No point," Squall said.

"Do you really believe that?" Laguna asked.

"Mostly."

Laguna placed a hand over his eyes and gave a soft sigh of defeat. The rain fell heavier, peppering the roof of the car, a sound like pebbles rattling around inside a tin can. The air inside, almost uncomfortably warm but the chill in Squall's bones persisted.

He tucked his hands against his sides and stared out at the dark sky. Would ever feel okay again? Rinoa's touch repulsed him, Ellone wouldn't stop looking at him with pity, and Laguna bore the brunt of Squall's resentment for both.

"What can I do to help, son?" Laguna asked. "What do you need?"

"I don't know," Squall said. "But it isn't this."

Laguna reached over, patted Squall's knee and told the driver to start the car. Squall looked up at his father, surprised. He expected Laguna to resort to the usual assortment of tactics to coerce him into the building, but the driver backed the car out of the parking space and drove back into town, where at Laguna's request, stopped in front of a liquor store and parked.

"Stay put," Laguna said. "Be back in a second."

Confused, Squall watched his father brave the rain, his jacket held above his head in place of an umbrella. The driver left the engine running and the heater on for Squall's benefit, but even with gloves, Squall's fingers were still cold and numb.

He closed his eyes and listened to the hypnotic stroke of the windshield wipers across the glass and the steady tap of rain against the roof...

_...he peers in through the dusty window and sees the remnants of the souvenir shop, the counter, the empty periodical racks and display shelves. As Rinoa describes how she would use the space, an image forms in Squall's mind, and he sees those empty shelves full of books and the ebb and flow of customers on their way to or from the train station. He sees the locals come in for the morning paper and a cup of coffee on their way to work and Garden Cadets perusing the shelves for texts not carried at the library._

_At first, it sounds like of Rinoa's crazy schemes, but the more she says, the less silly it seems. It's out of faith and not indulgence that Squall does his research and finds not an implausible and unrealistic goal, but a different path. With careful planning and frugal personal spending until the store is established, it's possible Squall can leave Garden and SeeD for good. A modest but steady profit from the store and his pension could provide a comfortable life for his family. Money will be tight until the house is paid off, but Squall thinks they can manage without all the fancy and expensive electronics that are all the rage, and with proper maintenance, he's sure the cars will give them another ten good years as long as Rinoa doesn't wreck another one – she's a nervous driver, and not without good reason._

_It can be done. It's the kind of dream Squall never imagined himself chasing, but a man with a family does not a good SeeD make, even when that SeeD spends 90% of his time behind a desk. And though Ella wasn't planned, she was in no way an accident, and Squall wants her to have everything he never had – a home and a family and all the love he was denied._

_He wants Rinoa to know without a doubt he is coming home at the end of the day, that if war were to break out he will not find himself at the forefront of a battle that will take him far away from all those things about his life he never knew he would love..._

Squall blinked away the memory as Laguna slipped back into the car and tossed a paper bag into his lap. Inside the bag was a bottle of some kind of grain alcohol and Squall turned his eyes on his father, unsure of his aim. It was ten in the morning on a Tuesday, and Laguna rarely drank.

"The hell, dad?"

"Field trip."

What that meant, Squall hadn't a clue until the car left city limits. The driver took the winding road toward the mountains, Balamb Garden in the distance, its ring stationary and dark.

Squall hadn't given any thought to Garden beyond what he'd been told: the property was seized by Cid's creditors, and the doors closed for good. For a significant portion of his childhood, Garden was the only home he remembered, but seeing it now only stirred up resentment and anger.

He expected the driver to follow the road to the entrance for some ill-advised trip down memory lane, but instead, the car turned down a lesser traveled fork to the left where the pavement ended and became a one- lane dirt and gravel path. Too many times before, Squall made this trip in a Garden vehicle to send off a fallen soldier or two, most under the age of twenty and most raised in the system like Squall, with no family but their comrades to mourn their passing.

"What are we doing here?" Squall asked as the car parked outside the gate.

"Today's therapy session," Laguna said.

"Getting drunk in a cemetery is your idea of therapy?"

"Sitting down on some guy's couch doesn't seem to be working for you," Laguna said. He took the bottle from Squall's lap and opened the door. "Thought we'd try something different."

"If this is supposed to cheer me up," Squall said, "I'll save you some time. You failed."

"Get out of the car, son."

Here, at the foot of the mountains, the rain was somewhere between a drizzle and a mist, and the wind brisk and cold. Squall shivered and pulled his knit cap down further over his ears as he gazed at the overgrown pathway. Weeds grew tall between the cobblestones and along the fence, and the unlatched gate blew open, the hinges groaning in protest.

As he followed Laguna up the path, Squall relied heavily his cane to navigate the uneven stones. No matter how hard he trained, his mangled leg never grew stronger or any more stable, and from now on, the cane would be a permanent part of his life unless he opted for reparative surgery that wasn't guaranteed to help.

They stopped somewhere in the middle of the cemetery as the rain began to fall harder and Laguna opened an umbrella to shield the both of them. His father pointed to a headstone shrouded in weeds, a bundle of dried sunflowers left against the base like a sacrificial offering.

Selphie, Squall guessed by the choice of bloom, and he wondered if they were meant for him, or if she'd visited after, to pay tribute to the unknown man in Squall's place. Selphie would do something like that, and in her younger days, Rinoa might have too, but Squall had a feeling Rinoa hadn't visited the cemetery much in his absence.

"The man they buried here got one hell of a send-off," Laguna said. He stepped forward and cleared away the weeds. "Never seen anything like it."

It was Squall's name etched upon the stone and the granite already showed signs of weathering. The name that belonged there would remain a mystery. There was no one at Garden to correct the mistake, no one to try to figure out who had been buried in Squall's place.

"I don't know if you realize how respected you were, Squall," Laguna said. "Hundreds of people showed up to say goodbye and by the time it was over, I think the only person who didn't shed a tear was Rinoa's father."

Laguna cracked open the bottle of liquor and took a swallow. He passed it to Squall, who stared at the label, stupefied by his father's decision to skip out on therapy to stand in the rain, drinking Cactuar Spirits next to a bogus grave.

"Tell me two things you know for sure are true," Laguna said and took the bottle back from Squall, "and one thing you know is a lie."

"Are you trying to play therapist?" Squall asked.

"I'll start," Laguna said. He took a swallow of the spirits and passed it back to Squall. "It's true that I was angry with you for dying."

Squall took a pull from the bottle, knowing he should go easy, but compelled to drink himself numb. Lowered body weight plus no tolerance to speak of was a bad combination. Laguna plus alcohol was an even worse combination.

"Why?"

"Maybe it wasn't you I was angry at, but the world in general. It was like all the gods were punishing me," Laguna said. "For not being there. For letting work dictate my time with you..."

Squall raised a hand to his face. Already, Laguna was a sniveling mess, and the weather was too foul to stay much longer. Whatever the point of this, today was not the day for it.

"Second truth," Laguna said, "I gave up on you. Elle was so sure, but every day that went by and there was nothing, the less hope I had."

Squall cut his eyes at his father, and his gut clenched at the regretful, sad look in his eye.

"I didn't believe you were going to come home to us with a heartbeat," Laguna said and cleared his throat to cover the way his voice cracked. "I'm sorry, son."

Squall never expected to come home alive, all hope lost the second he'd begun to doubt the reality of his life before. Two years was a long time to keep the faith, and the death of hope less a sin than Laguna believed.

"And the lie?"

"Whatever Thalia showed you that made you afraid of your wife. Whatever it is, I know it's a lie."

Squall grunted and turned his face away from his father. He couldn't say for sure if Laguna was right. There were too many vivid memories of things he'd rather forget, of Thalia's hands and lips on his skin and of Rinoa in Zell's arms, and he could not be sure those things were false.

"Your turn," Laguna said.

Squall took one last pull on the bottle and passed it back to Laguna. The handle of his cane was slick in his gloved palm, and thanks to the booze, Squall was no longer cold.

He could have resisted Laguna's attempt to get him to talk. He could have been stubborn and belligerent and angry that he'd been dragged out to confess things over a fake grave, but Squall didn't have enough fight in him to give Laguna a hard time. The sooner he said something, the sooner they could get back in the car.

"Whoever they buried in my place got the better end of the deal."

"Son -"

"You wanted to play this game," Squall said. "You don't get to interrupt."

"That guy was burned to death, Squall."

"At least he didn't suffer long."

"What's the second thing?"

"I don't remember what it's like to be unafraid."

Beside him, Laguna's breath hitched and his hand wrapped around Squall's bicep. Squall didn't look at him, and instead stared at the headstone. It wasn't what he meant to say, but it was a truth.

Particles of sleet pelted Squall's jacket and he pulled the edges of his knit cap lower over his ears. The breeze smelled like snow, like humidity and cold and the gray sky turned the color of steel out over the sea. He shivered and watched the sleet dance in the weeds as the particles grew fractionally larger.

"The lie is believing anything can be the same as it was before," Squall said. "I can't even hold my wife without losing my mind."

The wife that wasn't really his anymore. That was a lie too, calling her that.

"Baby steps, son," Laguna said. "Try holding her hand first. No need to jump off the bridge feet first when there's a ladder, right?"

Squall laughed through his nose, more bitter than humored.

"Says the man that shoved his friends off a cliff but was too much of a weenie to jump himself," Squall said.

"I didn't..." Laguna started. "Oh, hell. You got me. I always forget Ellone showed you every mistake I ever made."

"I doubt she showed me all of them," Squall said, but without malice. He gestured around the cemetery with his cane and turned his gaze upon his father. "Anyway, what do you call this?"

Laguna ruffled Squall's short hair like he was three.

"Progress."

* * *

It was freezing cold when the small charter boat docked in Fisherman's Horizon. Seifer stepped onto the gangplank and gazed around at the tin roof cottages and structures that lined the small harbor. He spotted his old friends and lifted a hand in greeting. Behind him, Ellone hitched the strap of her bag over her shoulder and Seifer reached for her hand to guide her through the small mass of people exiting the boat.

Their visit was more business than pleasure, but there was no way Seifer would stop through FH without catching up with his old chums. He half dragged Ellone down the dock and boomed out a greeting to his friends and accepted Raijin's bear hug and Fujin's curt nod. Their paths rarely crossed but when they did, it was like old times.

"You guys remember Ellone," Seifer said, then scratched his head. The last time either laid eyes on her was during the war.

Raijin scooped her up like she was a dear old friend. Her feet left the ground as he squeezed her hard enough to crush bone.

"Put her down," Seifer commanded. "You're going to scare her."

Ellone laughed as Raijin set her on her feet, a pretty blush on her cheeks, and she turned to Fujin and inclined her head, as if she sensed Fujin didn't like to be touched. Fujin's face turned to the ground, ashamed.

"SORRY."

"That was a long time ago," Ellone said. "Bygones, yeah?"

"Cool, ya know?" Raijin said. "So, we gotta go open the shop but, Fuu's made lunch and stuff, so ya know, you can poke around and look at stuff while we catch up."

The pair co-owned a holistic living shop, complete with dried herbs and crystals and books on clean eating. Raijin turned pacifist and vegan post-war, put down his staff and moved to FH to be come a new-age guru.

Not that Seifer judged. Raijin was still Raijin, he just wore a shirt more often, and ate things that the Shumi would find appealing. Otherwise, not much had changed. He still cried when someone stepped on a bug, coaxed ants from the house with crumb trails, and relocated spiders from indoor webby corners to a more appropriate outdoor location.

He fit right in in FH and rumor had it, the mayor's wife was a big fan.

Fujin managed the business, less interested in pseudo-science or pacifism than she was in running a profitable store. Clean living was all fine and good, but ensuring there was enough of a cash flow to pay the bills was paramount, and on his own, Raijin would give away the store if someone asked.

The smell of something heavily spiced wafted through the shop and mingled with the earthier scents of incense and herbs. Seifer poked through the shelves of objects he didn't have names for as Ellone perused the books, selected one on dream symbols and thumbed through it.

"Spiders:" she read aloud. "overbearing mother figure. Perhaps you might feel like an outsider in your daily life, or trapped by forces beyond your control."

Seifer drifted toward her and peered over her shoulder at the text.

"Sounds like our girl," he said. "Anything in there about insane megalomaniacal sorceresses from the future?"

"There's an entry for witch."

"I'll pass," he said. "I don't need a damn book to tell me why she's still in my head."

"I suppose not," she agreed.

"Yo," Raijin said. "That's a good one, but this one's better."

He pressed a thick, hard-back volume into her hands and Ellone flipped it open and thumbed through a few pages.

"You still having trouble sleepin'?" Raijin asked Seifer.

"Not as bad as I used to," Seifer said. "But, Elle wears me out, so that might have something to do with it."

Ellone turned a cool gaze on him and smacked his arm. It hurt more than Seifer let on.

"Don't let those big innocent eyes fool you," Seifer said. "She can get pretty violent."

"Once," she said. "I hit you for real once outside of training, and you deserved it."

Raijin guffawed and flashed a big, dopey grin.

"I like her," Raijin said. "But, yo, if you're havin' trouble sleepin' I got just the thing. Sit tight. Be right back."

He disappeared into the store room and Seifer turned back to Ellone with a shrug.

"Guess you're one of the posse now," he said.

"What about Fujin?"

"Majority rules. Besides, she didn't kick you, so you're gold."

Raijin returned from the storeroom, a rectangular box in hand.

"This is lavender, chamomille and Valerian root," he said. "Have a cup before bed, you'll sleep like a baby."

Seifer took it and shoved it in the pocket of his peacoat, with thoughts of giving it to Squall instead. It might help him sleep through nights he might otherwise wake from nightmares or lie awake staring at the ceiling. Physically, Squall was better and getting stronger by the day, but emotionally, not so much. He still had a long, long way to go.

They spent a few more minutes investigating the selection on the shelves, then sat down to a lunch upstairs of some type of grain, tofu, and vegetables. It wasn't half bad, but Seifer couldn't imagine eating this day in and day out. He needed meat, and protein that wasn't oddly textured chunks of strange white goo. Ellone savored every bite and heaped praise upon a pink-faced Fujin for her skill.

After, they returned downstairs to the store and Seifer got down to business. He showed them both the photos of Thalia, in hopes that she'd made an appearance.

"Sorry, man," Raijin said. "Can't say she's been in here."

"YES," Fujin said.

"A customer?"

"NO. DOCKS."

"How long ago?"

"TUESDAY."

Surprised, Seifer cast a glance at Ellone. She tensed and slipped her hand into his.

"You're sure?"

"POSITIVE," Fujin said. "SHUMI."

"She was with a Shumi?" Seifer asked. "What did he look like."

"HUGE."

This was the reason they'd come. Seifer expected the lead wouldn't pan out, like so many others, but maybe, the Shumi was still here.

"Oh, yeah, that guy lives up by the train station," Raijin said. "He's gone a lot from what I hear, but he comes in sometimes for this herbal headache tonic, ya know? That stuff don't really work, and I was gonna stop carrying it, but he buys so much, I gotta keep orderin' it."

Seifer jotted down the directions to the Shumi's shack and they left, with promises to meet for dinner later. With Ellone's hand still clasped firmly in his, Seifer led her from the shop and out into the cold. She shivered and Seifer slipped an arm around her shoulders to block the wind.

They paused behind a stack of broken pallets half a block from their destination to arm themselves. Most places, walking around armed wasn't a big deal, but this was FH, and the way Seifer heard it, carrying a weapon within city limits was worse than murder.

"Be ready for anything, Elle," Seifer said. "The guy doesn't look like much of a fighter, but he could be a real badass for all we know."

She nodded and fixed her blades to her hips, eyes far away.

_...get out of my head...I know you're here somewhere..._

Startled, Seifer turned Ellone's face toward his.

"What did you say?"

She brushed his hand away and stepped back, her face full of shame.

_I never wanted you to know._

It was Seifer's turn to step back. She could put thoughts in his head, and never mentioned it? Maybe she wasn't a Sorceress, but this was damn close for comfort.

"Hyne almighty, El," Seifer breathed.

"I didn't want you to know," she repeated, aloud this time. "Because of the way you're looking at me right now."

His gut instinct was to run. Run fast and far and never look back. He had his fill of witches, what they could do, and the only person he wanted inside his head was himself.

"You listen in on my thoughts?" he asked.

"Only by accident," she said. "I can usually control it when I'm awake, but sometimes I connect without meaning to when I'm asleep."

"You didn't think to tell me that?"

A tear rolled down her cheek and she turned away, ashamed.

"You were already afraid of me," she said. "I didn't want to make it worse."

She ground at her eyes and stared out over the junk plies and tin shacks that dotted the horizon.

"It's okay if it's too much," she said. "I understand if you want to leave."

_...they always do when they find out what you really are, Elle. Why did you expect anything different this time?_

Affection and empathy overrode fear, and Seifer stepped forward, drew her into his arms and crushed her into his chest. It didn't matter. It didn't _matter_. There was nothing in her even remotely like Ultimecia. If she said it happened by accident, then he believed her.

"I'm not gonna leave," he promised. "You scare the hell out of me, but I'm not gonna leave."

When he let her go, he wiped the tears from her cheeks and stepped back to hold her at arm's length.

"We'll talk about this later," he said. "Let's focus on why we're here."

Accountant's shack was tucked away behind a heap of scrap metal next to the train station, and barely passed as a structure. Four walls, tin roof, door. Otherwise, it was barely discernible from the rest of the junk surrounding it.

It was only as Seifer trudged up the steel plate walkway that Seifer grasped what Ellone's first communication implied.

"You think she's here in FH?"

Ellone nodded and bit her lip. "She's been trying to get in my head all day."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Is there anything you could do about it if she did?"

Seifer gritted his teeth and shook his head. Then, he made a choice he might come to regret.

"You have my permission," he said. "If you need to give me a heads up that you're about to go under or whatever, but no cherry-picking thoughts or listening in when you don't need to be."

"I wouldn't anyway," she promised. "I've stayed out so far, haven't I?"

"Yeah," he said. "Appreciate that."

He banged on the door and pushed Ellone behind him, his body a barrier and a shield because it was all he could offer.

_It's like I'm a goddamn Knight again..._

From inside, there was a rattle against the door, the shuffle of feet and a soft click. It opened just a crack and a beady eye peered out.

"What do you want?"

"Looking for Accountant," he said. "It's important."

Seifer slipped his hand under his jacket and let it rest against the grip of his gunblade, hackles raised in anticipation of a battle.

"I have no business with you."

"It's about Cid Kramer."

The door slammed in his face and Seifer cast a glance over his shoulder at Ellone. She shrugged, as if to say, _you didn't think it would be that easy, did you?_ She pushed in front of him and knocked.

"My name is Ellone," she called to the closed door. "Thalia's been looking for me."

"Elle, what are you doing?" Seifer hissed.

"I need to meet him," she said.

Seifer hadn't thought of that. He let his hand rest on her shoulder as she knocked again and the telltale shuffle came again. This time, the door opened wide and the Shumi stood back, and waved a massive hand to invite them in.

Going inside was not ideal. Seifer would prefer to conduct business where he could get the hell out, but Ellone stepped inside, past the massive Shumi and tugged Seifer along with her.

The inside of the shack was sparsely furnished, and much of the small space was swallowed by an over-sized mattress on the floor, large enough to accommodate the Shumi's excessive height and girth. A camp stove stood on a long table along the wall, next to a metal bucket of water and a long steamer trunk served as a bench. It smelled stale and musty, and vaguely like spoiled food.

"She is very interested in you."

"I know," Ellone said. "I need to know why."

"Isn't it obvious?" the Shumi said. "You intrigue her."

Seifer scoffed. It went beyond intrigue.

_Seifer..._

_"_ She finds you fascinating," the Shumi continued. "I think you have much in common."

_Seifer, she's here._

He casually swept his eyes around the room, in search of the threat, but saw nothing in the small room. There was nowhere to hide. No closets, no cupboards, and the only door was the way out. If she was there, Seifer couldn't see her.

"Aside from our experiences with Odine, I'm not so sure that's true," Ellone said.

"What is it you want, young lady?"

Something cold and damp brushed against Seifer's arm and he jumped, turned, but the space next to him was vacant. His hackles raised as breath ghosted against his neck, and he sensed, rather than felt an unwelcome presence in his personal space.

It was too similar to Ultimecia's first brush against his psyche. Compelling, almost irresistible, but wrong and repulsive and sickening.

Seifer wanted out, and he wanted out now.

"He's not going to tell us anything useful, El," he said. "We should split."

A hand caressed the back of his head and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming.

"I'd like to talk with her," Ellone said.

"I can't help you with that," the Shumi said. "She does not answer to me, or to anyone."

"Then tell me why she's doing this," Ellone said. "Why the game? The bank robberies and acts of terrorism?"

"Money makes the world go 'round," he said. "And fear is a powerful motivator."

"I don't understand."

"Everything in this world eventually unravels," the Shumi said. "No matter how sure a course or how true an aim, everything is eventually a victim of entropy. Chaos is the natural state of the world, and Humans are fools to believe they can control that which cannot be controlled. Miss Blackheart is merely setting things right."

Fingers curled around Seifer's thigh and swept upward. He jumped back, disgusted and mortified. Whatever this guy was on about, Seifer didn't care. He took Ellone by the arm and backed toward the door.

"Come on," he growled. "We're out of here."

He bumped into somebody, spun around and drew his blade, but there was no one there. Humorless laughter bounced around the room, something wet and soft touched his lips, a kiss, an invasion, a violation, and sickness bubbled in his throat, hot and bitter and _holyshit was this what Squall put up with for two whole years?_

His vision swam, went dark and when it cleared, he was on his knees under the awning of the train station, his arms wrapped protectively over his head. Beside him, Ellone crouched, waiting.

"Shit," he breathed. He wiped a hand over his face and sat back on his heels. "What the hell happened?"

"You flipped out," she said. "Started screaming."

"How long have I been like this?"

"A few minutes," she said. "No more."

"Well this was a wasted trip."

"Not necessarily," Ellone said. "I've met the Shumi. And now I know how to hurt her."

* * *

Rinoa closed the store when the first snow flurries began to fall. She picked Ella up from school and Ari from Selphie's and drove home with more caution than was due as Ella chattered about the things she was going to build once the snow accumulated.

When she pulled into the driveway, the front lawn was already lightly dusted with snow. As she let Ella out of the car and retrieved Ari, Ella went flying across the grass, singing one of Selphie's made-up songs about faeries.

Laguna's car was gone, and Rinoa checked the time. They were late getting back, but perhaps Laguna decided to stop off after Squall's therapy session and stock up in case the weather closed all of Balamb. Already, the trains stopped running ahead of the storm, and Zell had closed up shop around noon due to lack of business. She doubted anyone would stay open for much longer. Selphie thought it was funny the way people in Balamb reacted to snow, but Rinoa gently reminded her nobody was used to it, the island had no snow plows, and the natives hadn't a clue how to drive in it. Better safe than sorry.

She carried Ari inside, and ushered an overly excited Ella into the house and turned them loose in the living room, where she turned on the news to check the forecast.

Three inches of snow predicted before nightfall, with an additional inch overnight. Power outages were possible, but not expected.

In the kitchen, Rinoa checked her supply of candles and batteries for the flashlights and noted they needed wood for the fireplace. Once Laguna returned, she would haul some in so they could stay warm if the power failed. It might be nice to light one anyway, just because.

She brewed some water in a kettle on the stove for tea, and as Ella clambered to go outside and play in the snow, Rinoa burst into tears.

This was so damn hard.

Squall. The store. The kids. All of it.

Rinoa had no right to feel so put upon, yet she was overwhelmed by everything going on around her, in spite of all the extra help she had. Though Seifer and Ellone were currently off doing something neither would disclose, Ellone babysat most days while Seifer did whatever it was that Seifer did. Selphie helped with the cooking and housework, and Zell popped in once or twice a week to help with any maintenance that might be needed.

She had friends, and help, but Rinoa was still pulled in too many directions at once.

Squall was getting better physically. He looked better. He could walk on his own with the assistance of his cane, but the deep, intense connection they shared was gone or stunted by whatever was going on inside his head. There were so many pieces of him that were just gone, pieces it seemed were essential to their relationship, and Rinoa didn't know how to put him back together.

And Ari. Squall barely looked at their son, and Rinoa didn't know why. He wasn't unkind to the boy, he didn't refuse him when he sought attention, but Squall acted as though Ari belonged to someone else. Squall gave all his love to Ella, but turned indifferent around Ari. With friends and family around, Ari didn't suffer from lack of affection, but Rinoa loved him extra hard to make up for it.

"Mom, why are you crying?" Ella asked.

"Mom's just tired," she lied, and wiped her eyes.

"You should take a nap."

Rinoa would love a nap, but there were things to do. Two children to supervise, the business taxes were due and Rinoa hadn't even started, and the house was in desperate need of a good cleaning, but the more she thought about those things, the deeper she sunk into despair.

"Keep an eye on Ari for me," she said to Ella as the kettle began to whistle. "We'll go outside once your dad gets home, okay?"

"I can't wait for Ari to see the snow!"

Rinoa smiled. "Me neither, sweetie."

She brewed herself some tea and spiked it with a little rum to take the edge off, then sorted through the pantry for ingredients for soup. She dumped cans of things into a pot and added leftover bits of last night's chicken, then turned the heat on low.

This would be so much easier without the impossible and persistent weight pressing down on her shoulders 24/7. She could deal with Squall being so fragile, and the kids being so busy, and even the extended family around all the time if not for the wearying chore of trying to hold herself together.

Laguna and Squall returned as Rinoa poured herself a second cup of tea. Both were pink cheeked from the cold and smelled of booze. Rinoa frowned, but didn't comment, considering she'd imbibed herself so early in the afternoon.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

Laguna shifted his eyes away as Squall peeled off his coat.

"Productive, I think," Laguna said. "Right, Squall?"

"Productive," Squall echoed with a hint of a slur. "Baby steps."

Laguna snorted as Rinoa inclined her head at the bottle of liquor in Laguna's hand.

"Since when has therapy involved cactuar spirits?" she asked.

"Special session," Laguna said. "Alcohol helps lubricate the vocal chords."

To Rinoa's surprise, Squall chuckled.

He was drunk.

"I'm going to go lay down," Squall said. "Take a nap."

Rinoa watched him go and leaned against the counter to sip her tea.

"He's not getting better," she said "Is he?"

Laguna lifted the bottle of spirits to his lips, took a long swallow and set it aside.

"Yes and no," Laguna said. "There are things he's avoiding, but I think it's fear holding him back, not lack of love."

"Fear? Of what?" she asked. "Me?"

"Who knows," Laguna said. "Maybe he doesn't want you to think he's weak, or maybe she got his memories all twisted up, or maybe... something happened, something she did to him."

Laguna drank again as Rinoa pondered that, but wasn't sure what he meant.

"Care to explain?"

"Maybe she showed him lies, or..."

"Or what?"

Laguna's face colored, and he shuffled his feet, cheeks gone bright pink.

"Maybe, she took advantage."

"You mean, they slept together?" she asked slowly.

"I wouldn't use that terminology, but that's the gist of it."

It never occurred to Rinoa that this was a possibility. Not even once.

"He wouldn't."

"I'm not saying he had a choice," Laguna said. "Conscious or otherwise."

Rinoa's stomach, already in knots, tightened even more as she considered it, and her heart ached at the thought.

"It's just a hunch," Laguna said, "but he talks in his sleep, so maybe I heard a thing or two that made me wonder."

Rinoa took the bottle of spirits from the counter and dropped into a chair at the table. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she tried to imagine how it could have happened, and at the thought that this horrible, monster of a woman touching Squall that way. It was somehow worse than the physical damage done to him. Wounds healed, but scars like that were hard to fix.

She desperately hoped it wasn't true, and if it was, it had been consensual. Rinoa could forgive him a transgression or a moment of weakness if that was what he needed, be it for survival or comfort. He'd been through a hell she could barely imagine, and if it kept him from falling apart, Rinoa could live with it.

"Whatever happened, it wasn't his fault," Laguna said. "He still loves you, and I know how tough this is, but just be patient with him, okay? He needs you."

Her heart hurt for Squall and everything he suffered, but selfish thoughts crept in as she wondered if they would ever come close to where they'd been before.

_What about me? What I need? This is killing me._

Rinoa did take a nap, after Laguna urged her to take some time for herself, and after he promised to keep an eye on the stove and to do nothing more to it besides stir it from time to time. When she woke, both Squall and Laguna were out back, playing in the snow with the kids.

She watched from the window for a while, then bundled herself in her coat and scarf and joined them. The snow continued to fall, and nearly half a foot had accumulated while she'd slept.

Laguna led Ari around the yard, letting him touch and eat the snow, while Squall collaborated with Ella on a small army of snow cactuar. They'd dyed them green with food coloring and used small sticks for needles, and rocks for eyes, and it was so cute, Rinoa took pictures and video, and was particularly delighted when she got Ari tackling one that was nearly as tall as he was.

Squall moved to her side as they watched Laguna chase the kids around the yard. There was something wistful, yet lost in his eyes as Ella showed Laguna her best snow angel.

"I'm glad he decided to be here," Squall said. "It's good for them, I think."

Rinoa agreed. Laguna was half a big child himself, and a great playmate for the kids. More like Selphie than Laguna cared to acknowledge, actually.

Squall's gloved hand bumped against hers, and she looked down in surprise as his hand wrapped around her fingers and held on. It took all her willpower not to throw her arms around him and hold on with everything she had.

"Do you still love me, Rin?" he asked quietly.

"Of course I do," she said. "I never stopped."

"She made me forget," he said. "I need you to remind me."

"Every day," she swore. "All the time."

"Because I'm not okay," he murmured. "Sometimes, I can't remember what's real and what isn't, so you have to remind me that we weren't a lie."

Rinoa swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"Okay," she said.

"Please don't give up on me," he breathed. "I'm trying."

"I won't," Rinoa said and squeezed his hand. "I promise."


	20. Chapter 20

Due to the weather, Seifer and Ellone had no choice but to spend the night in FH. Their return charter to Balamb was canceled, the sea too rough to safely navigate the distance. The wind blew in hard, the tang of frost lingering on the edges of every gust, and it seeped into the cracks in the walls of their dirty, ramshackle hotel room.

Still rattled from the day's events, Seifer spent the hours post-dinner in quiet contemplation, tense enough that not even Ellone's gentle touch could lure him away from his thoughts. The more he thought about it, the more unsettling it became.

On top of that, Ellone's unexpected invasion of his mind. It left him conflicted as his aversion to it went to war with what he knew.

Beside him, Ellone shifted and Seifer instinctively followed until they lay face to face on the same pillow. He combed his fingers through her hair and toyed with the ends of a strand as he thought about what to do next.

Once again, they'd followed their leads and found only dead ends. Esthar was quiet for the time being, though Odine had been found wandering the industrial sector of the city without a stitch on a few weeks ago, after he was presumed dead in the blast that leveled his lab. The man answered no questions, named no names, just as Seifer made him promise at blade point.

Otherwise, the were back to following unfounded hunches and paper thin leads. The Shumi prove to have little to no information on Blackheart that they didn't already possess. Nothing that would help track her down or put an end to it, and Seifer was beyond frustrated.

"I think we need to go our separate ways," Ellone said, "until this is over."

Alarmed Seifer propped himself up on his elbow and peered down at her. She hadn't shared her plan yet, and this was not what he expected.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he spat.

"I'm not - "

"I'm too invested in this to walk away now," he said. "Forget it. Unless you've decided you don't want me anymore, then I'm staying."

"I'm not protecting you."

"So you're done with me."

"No," she fired back. "I'm taking away her ammunition. If she can't use you to hurt me -"

"Elle -"

"She _can_ and _will_ use you against me," she said. "She will hurt and humiliate and try to break you, just like she did to Squall."

"And what happens to you?" he demanded. "Huh? You're gonna fight her on your own?"

"What choice do I have?"

"The choice not to fucking walk away from me!"

Seifer shoved the blankets off of him as fire rippled under his skin in his fury. It was too warm, in spite of the chilly draft and he'd begun to perspire. Ellone shivered and pulled the blankets tighter around her and peered up at him with a frown.

"I don't want to give her any more power over me," she said. "I don't want to see you come back to me destroyed."

"I'll kill her if she tries," he swore.

It wasn't the truth, and they both knew it. Squall, for a strong as he was when captured, would have killed her already if it was possible. If Squall couldn't best her, Seifer's chances were slim to none.

"So that's it?" he asked. "You've made up your mind without even discussing this with me?"

Ellone bit her lip and turned her face to the ceiling as she lay back into the pillow.

"We wouldn't have lasted anyway," she said. "You know that. But it was nice while it lasted."

Sick, hurt and furious, Seifer rose from the bed and grabbed his clothes from the floor. He tugged on his pants in silence, his stupid, _stupid_ heart breaking.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"You don't want me here, so have it your way, El. I'm done."

She sat up and peered at him, the blanket drawn tight around her shoulders. Hyne, why did his stupid heart skip a beat at the sight of her messy hair and the crease in her cheek from the pillow? Why did she make him want to beg on his knees to change her mind?

"Why do you always do that?" she asked.

"What?" he demanded as he pulled on his boots.

"Run away when things don't go the way you want them to?"

"You asked for this, not me."

"Sit down and listen," she said. "You didn't let me finish."

"You're not my commanding officer," he snapped and tugged on his coat. "I don't take orders from you."

He stuffed the remainder of his belongings in his bag and did a sweep of the small space to ensure he'd left nothing behind. If she didn't want him here, he would be sure to leave no trace of himself.

"You're not even going to hear me out?"

"I've been dismissed, so, _no_ ," he said. "I don't think I will."

"You know, if you don't like my plan, maybe you should come up with your own, instead of acting like a great big spoiled baby."

When he opened his mouth to retort, he felt a tug inside his head, another invasion, a plea to be rational and Seifer snapped.

"Get the fuck out of my head!" he shouted. "You fucking _witch_!"

And Seifer instantly regretted it. Her face collapsed and she flinched as though he'd struck her. She bowed her head, nodded, and when she returned her gaze to him, everything he loved about her was gone. The fire, the spark, her warmth – it all drained away and all that was left was a cool, glassy-eyed stare of indifference.

Fuck. He'd fucked up. Bad.

All the fight drained out of him and he slumped into the only chair in the room, defeated and on the verge of actual tears for the first time since he was a kid.

"Elle-"

"It's fine," she said mildly. "You can go ahead and see yourself out."

Her frosty stare was a testament of how deep his words cut. Her silence stung more than if she'd come at him swinging, blades out, and ready to gut him. He wanted her to fight him, to hurt him back, but she lay down, bundled herself in the blanket and turned to face the wall.

"Elle-" he tried again.

"Goodbye, Seifer."

* * *

The snow continued to fall well after dark. Laguna lit a fire after dinner, then retired to the hotel room and took the kids with him for the night. Rinoa was reluctant to let them be away from the house with him, if only because Laguna sometimes overlooked important things, but he swore he would take good care of them and Rinoa, craving time alone with Squall, didn't fight it.

They shared a bottle of wine in silence, the living room dark around them, save the small blaze in the fireplace. From opposite ends of the couch, they watched flames dance over glowing bits of wood, afraid to break the silence.

After he held her hand earlier in the day, Rinoa hoped he would open up, but as quickly as he showed he was still with her, he retreated. For nearly an hour, neither said a word, and it wasn't the kind of silence they used to share, not the kind where they could comfortably watch a fire without having to say anything at all.

It was awkward, and Rinoa kept playing in her head all Laguna's hints about what Squall may or may not have suffered while imprisoned. If that was why he was so afraid to touch her, why he could barely look at her, if he was ashamed in any way, he didn't need to be. She wished there was some way to tell him that, to reassure him there was no betrayal, but how did one begin that conversation?

She couldn't even think about the part where he may not have been a willing participant. That, on top of all of it, was too heartbreaking to contemplate. Nevertheless, she prepared herself for the possibility.

It was what kept her from reaching out to him as the silence wore on, but every part of her longed for him. Even if it was only to share a bed for the purpose of sleep, she needed the contact and the closeness, she needed that emotional connection, another person's presence and touch, and day by day, she shriveled a little more from the lack of it.

It wasn't about sex. It wasn't selfish need. She hoped a little intimacy, be it physical or emotional could heal them both and cure them both of their respective fears and anxieties. She missed him and she missed the comfort of waking up beside him.

"Tell me about the store," he finally said. "Financially, how are we doing?"

"We're okay," she said. "Business dropped off after Garden closed, but I made up for some of it by offering a bigger selection of pastries from the bakery, two of them exclusive, so, there's that. The peach mini tortes are really popular..."

She felt stupid. Making small talk about pastries with her husband, as if they were strangers.

"How bad a hit did we take?" he asked. "When Garden closed."

"Down twenty percent."

Squall winced, but nodded.

"Not as bad as I thought. Maybe, tomorrow we can brainstorm some ideas on how to recoup the loss, since it doesn't look like we're going anywhere."

Rinoa never thought she'd look forward to a business discussion, but she was at the point where she would take anything, any interaction with him that didn't involve watching him stare at something a thousand miles away that no one could see but him.

"I really need to do the taxes, too," she said. "They're due next week, and I haven't even looked at them."

"Then plan to work on that, too," he said. "Might as well take advantage of a day off."

They lapsed into silence again and Rinoa refilled their wine glasses. Squall stared at the fire and rubbed the band of scars on his wrist.

"You've done good, Rin," he said. "I worried you wouldn't be able to handle it all."

"I had help," she said. "Zell and Selphie pitched in, too. I would have fallen apart if they weren't here."

Squall tensed and that subtle openness in his face closed off.

"Zell was here a lot?"

"He sort of had to be," she said. "He was assigned to look after us until he was decommissioned."

There was something in his tone and face Rinoa couldn't read. She peered at him in the firelight, took in the hard, bitter look in his eyes and the way his fist clenched in his lap. She'd noticed the way Squall acted around Zell, how he turned a cold shoulder and stared at him as if he was a stranger, and she noticed the way he tensed and acted strange whenever his name came up. Whatever his reasons, he never brought them up, and Rinoa wanted to know why.

"Is there something you want to ask me?" she said mildly. "Because I'll give you an honest answer."

He took a slow swallow of wine, set down his glass and leaned back into the couch cushions. Rinoa was on the edge of her seat in anticipation of a breakthrough of some sort. Squall opened his mouth, closed it, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before he dropped his gaze to his lap.

"...I saw all these things," he began. "Things she showed me, about you... and Zell."

"What kind of things?" she asked.

He shook his head and stared at the fire.

"It's okay if you needed someone," he said softly. "I understand."

Rinoa blinked at him, speechless. He was the one she needed. No one else.

"I'm not angry," he said. "Jealous, maybe, but I get it."

"Squall, do you think Zell and I started seeing each other while you were gone?" she asked. "Because that's not what happened."

Squall said nothing for a while, his face too blank to read.

"Then why does he look at you that way?" Squall murmured.

Rinoa swallowed around the lump in her throat and it was her turn to bow her her head.

"It isn't what you think," she said, and Squall flinched, closed his eyes, and pushed up from the couch. "It could have been, but it wasn't."

"It's okay," he said and leaned heavily on his cane. "I'm going to turn in for the night."

Rinoa got to her feet and crossed the room to block his retreat. She couldn't let him leave thinking there was something on when there wasn't.

"One kiss, Squall," she said. "That's it. A few months ago, in Dollet, and we were drunk."

"I don't want to hear any more."

"Maybe not, but you need to," she said. "So you'll stop avoiding me and stop looking at him like you're going to kill him."

"Rin, please," he said.

He moved to step around her, but she blocked him again.

"It could have been more," she said honestly. "I missed you so much, Squall. I was lonely. But you know what? Zell is the one who stopped it. He could have taken advantage, and he didn't. And that's the truth. So whatever she showed you is a lie, Squall. It's a total lie."

He looked at her instead of the wall, eyes wounded and full of sorrow.

"You can't be angry with me for being lonely," she said quietly. "Just like I can't be angry with you for anything that happened to you."

His chin quivered and he shook his head.

"...you don't know."

"Because you won't talk about it," she said. "And it's okay if you can't, but whatever happened, you're already forgiven."

He was shaking, trembling so hard he looked like he was standing in the midst of his own personal earthquake. Rinoa wished she could hold him and promise everything was all right, but she didn't want him to run away.

"...I don't know," he said so softly, his words barely reached her ears. "...I don't know what to believe..."

"I love you," she said, to remind him, just as he asked. "No matter what happened. I don't need to know everything, okay? Doesn't matter."

He nodded, eyes turned to the floor.

"If you want, you can come upstairs to sleep," she said. "I won't touch you if you don't want me to, but I'll feel better knowing you're there."

* * *

Squall hesitated at Rinoa's suggestion. It was tempting, so, _so_ tempting. He missed falling asleep next to her, and he missed waking up next to her, he missed all of it, even the occasional snoring she would never admit to.

She banked and extinguished the fire and Squall was torn between retreat and the lure of finding some of his missing pieces. He was getting better physically, but inside he still felt so damn _bad_ all the time, afraid of everything, and still sure this whole thing was just a facade, another illusion that would come crashing down around him. Waking up was a chore, going about daily activities was a struggle, and all he wanted to do was lay down, curl up in a ball and sleep for the rest of his life.

No one knew how difficult it was not to stay inside his head, in some dark corner where nothing could touch him. So much easier to retreat for good, than it was to deal with all the fears and doubts that plagued him. It was safer there, in that dark, quiet space inside his mind where he didn't feel anything at all. No pain, no fear, no worries, and there he was untouchable.

The help his friends and family offered wasn't the kind he needed, but he didn't know how to ask for their assistance in slaying the monsters in his head. They wouldn't understand, their weapons and words of encouragement were ineffective against fear and panic over imaginary things and illusions.

All his fears and doubts persisted, in spite of Rinoa's honest confession and her willingness to accept whichever of his nightmares were real. He loved her for that, beyond sense and reason, but she didn't know all the ways it still ate away at him. It should have been a relief to know there was nothing more than a kiss between her and Zell, but it burned like acid and left a ball of dull resentment in his stomach.

_I'm going to kill him._

It wasn't a rational thought. If Rinoa's story was to be believed, Zell shouldered no blame.

_She's protecting him._

Squall blinked at Rinoa as she offered her hand, brown eyes full of warmth and love, and so much hope it hurt.

He let her guide him up the stairs and into the bedroom he hadn't set foot in in over two years. It was the same as he remembered except for the lack of photos or personal things that belonged to him. Their wedding picture was absent from the wall and in its place, a picture of Ella on a swing, laughing, hair flying, face tipped to the sky. He stared at it and his unease quieted.

The room was the same, but different. There was no trace of himself, no evidence he once inhabited this space and no evidence of how much love they'd shared within these walls. His clothes no longer hung in the closet, his nightstand barren, save a small lamp and a battered alarm clock.

_I've been erased._

Rinoa undressed, her eyes fixed on him, and he watched, craving her, needing her, wanting her, but unable to take a step forward to claim her as his. He was seventeen again, and mortally afraid of physical and emotional intimacy, afraid if he let her in she would destroy him, leave him, go away, and he shut his eyes to the smooth curves and planes of her body, fearful she would blind him...

… _."Stop the car."_

 _Zell doesn't hear him over the music blaring through the vehicle's stereo or over the sound of his own voice as he explains to Rinoa why t-boards should be allowed at Garden. He has a point, but Squall's focus is on_ not _vomiting all over the back of Rinoa's head instead of the t-board's mission potential._

_Which is going to happen if Zell doesn't stop the damn car right now. He's already barfed once, after he nearly fell to his death during their escape. There's nothing left in his stomach to bring up, yet his body is no longer under his control._

_Throughout the entire ordeal at the prison, Squall managed to keep it together, no matter how bad he wanted to curl up in a corner somewhere and never get up again. He fought through waves of sickness and a searing, blinding headache, through shaky limbs and weak muscles, his instinct to survive the only thing that worked in his favor._

_His skin grows cold and clammy and he trembles as bile back-builds in his throat._

" _Dincht, stop the car," he hisses. "Now."_

_Zell hits the brakes and Squall braces himself against the back of Rinoa's seat, his stomach in revolt, and flings open the door just in time. He scrambles out, finds refuge behind some rocks and shrubbery, falls to his knees and vomits into the sand._

_Zell and Rinoa get out of the vehicle, and there are whispered mutterings that carry over the low rumble of engines and Squall ignores whatever it is they're saying. If he could get up to save face and hide his misery, he would, but healing magic and curatives only tend physical wounds._

_He is tired. Drained. The ordeal has caught up with him, the adrenaline that carried him through sputters and dies as he vomits again without a sound._

_The scrape of boot against rock, a gentle hand against his back. Squall doesn't want her help, but he needs it, and he accepts what she has to offer because he's too weak to fight._

_She cleans him up, wipes his face with a wet rag and makes jokes about Squall Leonhart, the font of bravery and nicknames him Upchuck. He almost laughs in spite of himself and her terrible puns about geysers and fountains and volcanoes and spewing. She teases Zell for gagging and finds it hilarious when Zell, standing downwind, nearly loses it himself._

_Her eyes are calm and warm and full of good humor, even when his body expels the water she gave him to drink. He's still shaking when she guides him back into the vehicle, but he's no longer sick, just tired, and she lets him sleep with his head in her lap. Her fingers comb through his dirty hair and he likes it, finds it soothing as he drifts off and she calms him when he wakes gasping from a nightmare, promises he's safe, and he believes it..._

...she was still too beautiful for words. Even the stretch marks on her stomach and hips and the old, faded battle scars from long ago were beautiful to him.

"Do you need help?" she asked, when he didn't move to undress himself and watched her instead.

Squall shook his head, and with shaky hands,he stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers, eyes cast to the floor. He didn't want to see her reaction to all his new scars or all the marks Thalia left behind. She saw them anyway, and moved closer to really look for the first time since he'd come home, but she did so without comment.

She turned down the blankets and Squall eased himself into the bed, his cane propped against the nightstand for easy access should he panic and need to run. In the darkness, he lay tense and listened to her settle in a foot away, so close but so far, and he swallowed down his fear, turned onto his side and pulled her back against his chest.

There was a sharp rush of fear, an instant of panic, but he buried his face in her hair to breathe in the scent of woodfire mingled with the fragrance of her shampoo, and he knew he was home.

* * *

Ellone didn't cry. She was too stunned to cry. But, Hyne it hurt.

She told herself it was part of the plan. He would not leave unless she goaded him into it, got inside his head without permission to drive him away, and it worked. She expected his anger and arguments, but she did not expect him to take her down quite so cruelly.

_Witch._

All her life, she'd been called names by those who feared her. _Witch_ was the one that she heard most often, and the one that chafed her raw, even in the best of situations. It smarted when it came from a stranger, but to hear it from someone she cared about, maybe even loved, it was a thousand times worse. Whether he only meant it to hurt her, or he really believed it, it didn't matter, it hurt the same.

She should have known better. This was Seifer Almasy. He pulled no punches, and she shouldn't have expected anything else.

She slept fitfully as the wind outside howled and rattled the tin roof, and her dreams filled with images of Thalia's childhood. These were things she could use, things she could pepper her mental assaults with, and she collected them one by one, each painful event filed away for future use.

… _.they're throwing rocks at her and she winces each time one strikes her body, witch, they chant, witch, witch witch witch witch, until Thalia can't take it anymore, and they promised this was a better place, but the rocks hurt just as much as her mother's cane, just as much as her father's fists, and why can't she stop this why can't she make it stop she didn't ask for it, didn't ask for this power didn't want it and oh god..._

Ellone woke as the soft click of the door latch engaged and the sole of a boot scraped against the dirty floor. She didn't rise, but lay there, eyes closed and still half connected to Thalia's mind.

… _.I'm sorry they did this to you..._

A soft thump as Seifer dropped his bag on the floor, a rustle of clothing as he removed his coat.

… _.the needles hurt and she tells Odine so. Her arms are full of holes from where he's stuck her with one concoction or another, and they all feel like ice in her veins. Pain is all she knows, all she can feel, and she fights back when she has the strength, picks out their greatest fears and mingles them with her own. She shows them cheating wives and monsters and burning houses. Car accidents and illnesses and rats and she takes all these things and twists them, and blasts their worlds apart, but it hurts, the needles, and Odine has her so sedated her visions are weak, so weak, and it hurts..._

A sigh, the scrape of a zipper and something hits the floor and rolls across the battered wood. A whiff of alcohol, the twist of a cap.

… _.the families on television all look so perfect, and in those moments when she is not in pain or hooked up to some machine, she watches them going about their lives and their daily struggles and she wonders what it was like to live that way. She sees couples in love, kissing, touching, laying down together and they speak soft, heartfelt declarations of affection, and she doesn't understand what that is but she wants to destroy it and break it to pieces and see if it can survive..._

The bed dipped under Seifer's weight. His hand ghosted over her shoulder, and Ellone came out of her trance fully as he slid under the covers and pressed himself against her back. Ellone didn't move, didn't breathe, and his arm dropped around her, lips pressed to the back of her neck.

"I didn't mean it, El," he murmured. "Forgive me."

He smelled of alcohol, something strong and probably cheap. Ellone lay still and feigned sleep. It wasn't about forgiveness, it was about the mission she was on, the one that didn't include him. For as much as his words hurt, the end goal was more important than her feelings.

"I know you're awake," he said. "I have a different plan, if you want to hear it."

Curiosity got the best of her. She rolled over and faced him, and the scent of booze was stronger, pungent but not altogether unpleasant.

"Tell me," she said.

"Odine said your power works like a GF junction."

"More or less," she said.

"Then get in my head and stay there," he said. "Leave the connection open."

Ellone sat up and peered down at him, sure he was too drunk to think rationally.

"You flipped out when I did it for ten seconds," she reminded him.

"Uninvited."

"You called me a witch."

He grimaced, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I have a bad habit of picking out the worst possible thing to say when I'm pissed," he said. "You know that already."

"Doesn't excuse it."

Seifer sat up, leaned back against the wall and drew his knees to his chest. He dragged a hand over his face and eyed her with a wry look that softened the blow of his careless words.

"I'm shit scared of you, okay," he said. "You fucking terrify me, but Blackheart is so far beyond that, I don't have a word for it."

"How much have you had to drink?" she asked.

"Enough," he said and cleared his throat. "Enough to figure out neither of us is going to win this alone, no matter how freaking noble our intentions."

"She'll-" Ellone began, but Seifer held up a hand and cut her off.

"I know," he said. "She's already trying. The way I figure, it'll be harder for her to get in my head if you're already there."

Ellone couldn't say he was right. Thalia was able to twist things when Ellone connected to Squall, but she wondered, was Squall able to see through the illusion with her in his head? He was still such a wreck, how could she ask that question?

"I thought you don't want me in your head."

"I don't," he said, "but... maybe we're stronger together. So just do it and get it over with."

Ellone hid a smile behind her hand, but he saw it and lifted her fingers away from her lips and pressed her palm to his cheek. It was tempting to slide up next to him, to let his comment be forgotten, but it still stung.

"You hurt me," she said.

"I know."

He dropped her hand and turned his face to the wall opposite, to glare at it as if it offended him.

"I always manage to fuck things up, don't I?" he scoffed.

Ellone rolled her eyes. If there was one thing about him that drove her up the wall, it was his ability to turn things around and make them about him when his feelings were hurt. She didn't entirely blame him for it, he'd never learned to deal with remorse, or at least, to a lesser degree than the rest, but it wasn't so easy for Ellone to forgive him for the verbal punch he dealt her.

"Don't sit there feeling sorry for yourself," she said. "You can't say things like that and then act like you're the one who took the shot."

"I know."

"Do you?" she asked. "You went for the throat. If that's what you think of me -"

"I don't," he said.

"- and you're so afraid of me and what I can do, then maybe it's best this ends now," she said. "I've already been down that road and I'd rather be alone than walk it again."

"I didn't mean it."

Ellone ignored him, on a rant now, and unable to stop, no matter how contrite he seemed.

"The fact that _you_ said it hurts so much more than from some stranger, whether you meant it or not," she said. "I don't think I can forgive you for that, because what happens next time I piss you off?"

"It won't."

"If I let you get away with it, what's to stop you from doing it again?"

He looked like boy that had just been scolded by his mother. He templed his hands against his chin, almost as if he were praying, but dropped them to gaze at her in the darkness.

"Maybe we should call it even, then," he said. "Considering, you _hit_ me when I pissed you off."

That took the wind from her sails and she sagged against the wall, unable to disagree with him. He was absolutely right. She'd hit him, and that was as abusive as ugly words, and there was no way to deny it.

"It wasn't even a question," he said. "I forgave you because I knew why you did it."

He fiddled with the hem of his pants and picked at a loose thread. Ellone suspected he had more to say so she waited in silence as he rolled the thread in his fingertips.

"I'm not always going to say the right thing, El," he said. "I'm an idiot and an asshole and moronic things are going to come out of my mouth that you're gonna hate, but most of the time, it's not personal."

He pulled the thread clear of the fabric and held it up, inspecting it in the darkness.

"...I..." he began. "...It's... It's got nothing to do with you..."

He swallowed and clasped his hands around his legs, his chin against his knees.

"Back during the war, she never let me be afraid," he said. "Not until the end, when she was too focused on what she was doing to realize her hold slipped. I'd never felt fear like that before... and this reminds me too much of that, so if I lash out, it's not because of you... and... I'm sorry."

It left her without words. Seifer Almasy apologized for nothing. Not his actions, not his mouth, and Ellone didn't expect to ever hear him say it out loud, and never with sincerity. It cost him a lot to suck it up and say it, something Ellone didn't take lightly.

"I forgive you," she said. "I'll try not to hit you again."

He turned his head and leaned his cheek against his folded arms and peered at her in the darkness. The relief she saw there broke her heart. Somewhere, behind all that bravado was still a damaged little boy who on one hand wanted to push everyone away, and on the other, desperately needed someone to care..

"Hit me all you want," he said. "Don't hurt me none."

He flopped down onto the mattress and rooted around in the blankets, then held open his arms for her.

Ellone hesitated. It was for the best that he went back to Esthar, that they broke off whatever it was they were doing – she still wasn't sure sometimes – so that he was no longer a target. The last thing she wanted was for Thalia to get inside his head. The damage she could do to his already damaged mind could be irreparable, as it seemed it might be with Squall.

"We're doing this together," he said. "You and me, so c'mere already. I'm cold."

"You're not cold, you liar."

But she smiled and eased into his arms and cautiously opened up the connection between them.

* * *

Zell was so focused on the project before him, he almost didn't hear the soft tap on his front door. It was late, after two in the morning, and he wondered who the hell needed something from him at this hour. After hours customer visits happened occasionally, but never this late.

He set down his screwdriver and switched off the light. Whether or not he would open for business in the morning, he needed to get some sleep. He padded to the front room and opened the door a crack to peer out at the visitor.

Rinoa stood there in just a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, snowflakes in her dark hair, crying, battered and bloody.

Zell flung the door open to take a closer look as a dark fury began to boil through his veins. He drew her inside and flicked on the kitchen light, momentarily incapable of speech at the sight of her battered face. Her lip was split and bleeding, her nose too, and one eye purple and swollen.

"Who did this?" he demanded. "Did Squall do this to you?"

Rinoa's mouth trembled and tears flowed freely down her cheeks and it was all the answer Zell needed. His hands balled into fists, and he wondered where he'd left his gloves.

"I'm gonna freakin' kill him," Zell growled. He pushed past her and retrieved his coat from the hook by the door. "I'm gonna kill him."

Rinoa pushed him back, toward the kitchen and shook her head.

"No," she whispered. "Just leave it alone. I already took care of it."

"What?"

She held up her arms. Her bangle was gone, and there were fingerprint shaped bruises on her forearms and more around her wrists.

"I took care of it, I just didn't know where else to go," she said.

Zell couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something not quite right about her. He looked her over and found nothing amiss, save the blood and bruises, and he decided the difference was her fear.

They didn't see each other as often anymore, and for the last few weeks, only when he stopped in to buy a paper and a coffee before he opened the garage. At best, they waved to one another from across the store or said a quick hello if he had time to pop his head in her office. He noticed the tiredness around her eyes and the lies behind her smiles: _I'm fine. We're doing good. He's getting better._

"He can't get away with it Rin," Zell said. "I'm not gonna let him."

"I handled it," she said, a little too sharply. Her face crumpled, and Zell thought he saw her eyes flicker from brown to silver and back again, but it was only a trick of light. "I handled it. He won't do it again."

Zell put aside his anger and guided her to the kitchen table and sat her down in the nearest chair to tend to her wounds. She was capable of healing them herself, but not in any state of mind to do it. He found potions in the kitchen drawer, checked the expiration dates - they'd been there since before his Ma passed – and healed her broken lip and bleeding nose, her swollen eye and finally the bruises on her arms.

"Where are the kids?" he asked.

"Laguna," she said. "He took them for the night."

"Good," Zell said. He brushed strands of hair from her eyes and tilted her face toward his. "You can crash here. The kids too, if you need to."

"I don't know," she said. "I don't want to be an imposition. I was thinking of going to my father's..."

Zell frowned. "Really?"

Maybe she wasn't thinking straight. Maybe, whatever happened was bad enough she would choose to endure her father's oppressive home to get away. Either way, Zell didn't want to see her go.

"I can't do it anymore, Zell," she said. "I'm so... tired. Of all of it. I just want to run away."

"Stay with me until you figure it out," he said. "I got room."

The room around him shifted out of focus ever so slightly, and then Rinoa's mouth was on his, her arms around his neck, her body pressed to his. He uttered a protest, but his words were cut off by her kiss.

This was wrong, all wrong, or maybe it was right and he was just too nice a guy and his best friend was an abusive bastard. Rinoa deserved better. At two in the morning, and with lust poisoning his ability to think rationally, Zell was in no position to think things through.

He felt a little drunk as he carried her up the stairs, half wondering why he hadn't put a stop to this, but as he crawled into bed beside her, he remembered why he didn't care. She was a dream come true.

"You really, really sure about this Rin?" he murmured as he lay above her, skin against skin. "A hundred percent positive this is what you want?"

He had to be sure. Before he crossed this line, he had to be sure there would be no regrets.

"I'm sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: Hey guys, don't forget to show your fic writers some love from time to time-whatever story you're reading, in whatever fandom, please appreciate! I had two different readers over on ffn tell me they don't ever leave reviews, not even for favorites and it really just made my brain go, "whhhyyy??!" 
> 
> So this is a plea on behalf of all writers, in all fandoms everywhere: this is hard work, so if you like an author's work, please show it every now and then! 
> 
> Thanks to those of you that have left kudos, subscribed, bookmarked or left comments! XO!


	21. Chapter 21

Colored light spilled across the carpeted floor from the stained glass rosette inset into the bedroom wall. Squall let his eyes follow the shapes of the jewel-toned spots on the floor, half mesmerized by their brilliance.

It was rare to catch it at the right time, when the sun blazed through the glass and bathed the room in rich, warm color. Before, he'd always been up too early, or came back too late, but for now, there was nowhere he needed to be, and nothing he needed to do.

But even as he lay there, anxiety crept up on him. Rinoa lay asleep beside him, almost painfully close and Squall struggled to maintain the calm that sustained him through the night.

_...zero, one, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one, thirty-four, fifty-five, eighty-nine..._

"One forty-four," he murmured as Rinoa said something in her sleep. "Two thirty-three."

Rinoa loved the glass, with all its colors and shapes, but Squall was drawn to the order of the design, spiral like a nautilus in the center. It offered him something to count, first the individual squares, then the sequence of numbers that made a golden spiral. As before, it helped him stay focused as his anxiety came on in short bursts of panic for reasons unknown. He was comfortable, and as safe as he'd ever been, and these waves of fear made no sense.

"Three seventy-seven, six-ten."

He slept through the night, there were no dreams, but he wasn't at ease. He couldn't say why, or what triggered it, but the unease was there, and it was tough to choke down.

Rinoa turned over and he tensed as her arm snaked around his waist. With a soft hum, she nuzzled the back of his neck, the way she used to when she was still half asleep. He loved it and he hated it, and his skin crawled as if Thalia's spiders decided to pay him a visit.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and counted the numbers backwards, _six-ten, three seventy-seven, two thirty-three, one forty-four, eighty-nine, thirty-four, twenty-one, thirteen,_ and all the way down to zero and back until his heart stopped its attempt to escape his chest.

Her arm lifted away and she sat up to peer at him with a soft smile. Fear left a bitter taste in his mouth, even as her eyes filled with warmth.

"What time is it?" she asked and squinted at the clock.

"Just after eight," he said.

"How long have you been awake?"

"A while," he admitted.

"I'm so happy you stayed last night," she said. "I feel like maybe now things can get back to normal."

 _I don't know what that is anymore_.

His eyes followed the jewel-toned patches on the floor and was dismayed that they'd already begun to fade as the sun lifted higher in the sky. It was fitting that his reprieve bled away as fast as the color, but a few moments of fleeting comfort were better than none at all.

"We should get up and get started," he said. "Sun's out, snow will be gone by noon."

Rinoa groaned into her hand but nodded her agreement and added a silent yawn.

Time had forced Squall to forget about all the simple things that gave his life purpose. Her bed-head and her eyes soft from sleep, the way she yawned so quietly, and the flush in her cheeks when she realized he was staring. None of those things seemed important before. Familiarity stole away the wonder, but seeing it now reminded him how subtle, little things mattered more than anything.

"You look like you want to say something," she said.

 _...his cheeks grow warm under her curious gaze, and he's too aware of how naked he is, and how naked_ she _is, and he's embarrassed she's caught him staring, but he can't help it. If he's ever seen anything so beautiful in his life, he can't remember it..._

In spite of himself and the ebb and flow of anxiety in his blood, he smiled at the ceiling and tucked a hand behind his head.

"I was just thinking of the first time I tried to tell you I loved you..."

Rinoa giggled and stretched out beside him, close enough to feel the warmth of her body, but without making contact. He ached to feel her pressed against him, but feared it at the same time, feared getting too close, just in case it was all really just a lie.

"I love... cheese," she mocked. "You blushed so hard, I thought you were having a stroke."

" _...I love cheese, too," she says without cracking a smile. "Is that a hint you'd rather blow off the awkward first-time sex and grab a snack instead? Because we can do that if you want. I know you skipped lunch again..."_

_Squall covers his face with a pillow and growls into it in frustration. Food is the furthest thing from his mind, but his brain put on the brakes a split second too soon, short circuited and his mouth spat out the first thing that came to mind._

_Why are words so hard? Hyne, he's such an idiot..._

"Do you still love cheese?" she asked quietly.

It occurred to him, he hadn't said it, but it was never really in doubt. All along the question he asked himself most was, _did she love him_?

"Very much," he whispered as he turned his eyes on her. "Never stopped."

* * *

The whistle of a train woke Zell from sound sleep.

He was at his work desk, completely naked with his cheek pressed to the wood top. Something hard dug into his cheek and he winced as he sat up and brushed it away. A small screw hit the desk and bounced across the surface as he looked around in confusion.

He stood and winced as his back and neck screamed in protest, a stinging pain in the skin along his spine. The house was quiet, the only sound the tick of water flowing through the pipes in the wall. Cold, too, as if the heater hadn't kicked on all night.

"Rin?" he called out as he climbed the stairs to his room.

He expected to find her tangled in the sheets, sound asleep, but his bed was made, the corners tucked and the sheets crisp as if it hadn't been slept in at all. There was no sign of her, but his own clothes lay where he'd shed them, a trail, shirt, pants, socks, from the door to the bed.

"The hell?" he murmured. "Rin? You in the bathroom?"

He knocked on the bathroom door across the hall and pushed the door open when there was no response. He flicked on the light, caught the reflection of someone pale and ghostly behind him and spun around in surprise.

There was no one there.

Spooked, Zell backed out of the bathroom, his eyes fixed on the mirror to confirm it had only been imagination. Nothing moved behind him, or in the room before him, but he sensed something or someone waiting on the periphery.

His back hit the wall and he flinched in pain. Scratches. He remembered now, how she'd raked her nails down his back in the heat of the moment – unexpected, a little painful, but Hyne, how he loved it.

Zell slid down to the floor, trying to puzzle out what the hell was going on.

Rinoa was here last night, all bloodied up and scared. He vividly remembered her swollen lip, how good she felt in his arms, and how eager she was to touch and be touched, how passionate she'd been, and how falling asleep next to her was better than hot dogs. All that was too sweet to be a dream.

The scratches on his back certainly weren't...

He dressed and went downstairs to see if she'd left a note and found only the empty potion on the table and a bloody rag in the sink. Disappointed, he dragged a hand over his face and wondered if she changed her mind.

The sight of her blood brought back the anger he held off at her request. His entire childhood, his father used his fists when he was too frustrated for words. He'd seen his Ma with a busted lip or two, and had suffered countless bruises and wounds of his own.

It wasn't okay. It was _never_ okay.

Zell gritted his teeth and decided he needed to pay Squall a visit.

* * *

Ellone drifted in and out of Thalia's mind for the remainder of the night, scanning the last few months for information about her whereabouts, but it was tough to tell. The woman lived in a strange, hellish world that was nothing like reality. People on the street wore demon faces, and monsters hid in every shadow. Her mind projected the fears she collected from other people onto the world around her, and the closer Ellone got to present day, the worse it got.

Thalia's fractured psyche was on the verge of busting apart, the dark reality she inhabited as much an enemy as order. And as Ellone suspected, she could exploit it...

_...she selects a huge diamond ring on display in a jewelry shop in Dollet and smiles at it as the shopkeeper cowers in fear. The walls crawl with shiny blue-black tinted spiders that shimmer brighter than the jewels in the cases, and cobwebs drape from the ceiling, but as she looks up, the shopkeeper is no longer a man, but a demon with burning red eyes and eight arms and a spiked mandible-like protrusion on his lower jaw._

_She steps back as he slithers over the counter and down onto the floor, pooling like some thick, viscous fluid upon the carpet and her father's voice bleeds out from the dark spot he's made, loud and angry and full of zealous venom._

" _Look what you've done, you little demon... why do you make me do this to you?"_

Ellone pictured the jewelry shop as it probably was, the shopkeeper just a benign man with soft jowls and snowy hair, and in the memory-space, the room around Thalia flickered, faded, and reassembled itself into the image in Ellone's head for an instant, then returned to the terrifying gray place it was before.

_...Thalia notices and she spins around, in search of the source of the disruption..._

Ellone startled awake as she realized what she'd done. For years, she tried in vain to change the past and failed every time. She could change nothing, no matter how hard she tried, yet now, linked to Thalia, she'd used Thalia's own gift against her and forced a change in the environment.

That was huge. It confirmed that, while perhaps she couldn't change the past, she could affect Thalia's memory and wipe away parts of the illusion in the present.

She sat up and pushed Seifer's heavy arm off her and gazed at the windows, where the barest hint of morning light crept around the edges of the dirty curtain.

If Ellone could alter reality while inside Thalia's head, even in the past, maybe order really _was_ a weapon she could use against her. She could counter every illusion with reality, every horror with something benign.

Seifer tugged on her arm, still half asleep and unaware she was wide awake. She lay back down and let him fold her into his chest, and the steady beat of his heart lulled her back into a doze. Willingly, she drifted back into Thalia's head, this time into the most recent things she could find.

" _...I'm going to kill him."_

 _Zell's face is a picture of fury, his baby blue eyes flinty and cold and his fists curl at his sides, and she is kissing him, and his lips are soft, gentle and the way he touches her is so tender, but she knows, she knows, she_ knows _what he wants, not her, not Thalia, nobody loves her. He loves the phantom he believes she is, the sorceress Leonhart loved, and she could let him, she could pretend, she could surrender so she knows what this feels like, to be touched with kindness and love, but she feels nothing as he peels away her shirt and his lips move over her bare shoulder and she is repelled by the feel of his hands on her back, and all she can think of is her father and her mother and Dr. Odine, and needles and pain._

_She sends his mind deeper, deeper, all the way down into the illusion, and she crawls away from the bed to collect her clothing from the floor, but she admires the flex of muscle under his skin, so beautiful and strong as she makes him act out this fantasy all alone._

_He will believe the lie in the morning, and she leaves scratches all down his back and fingerprint shaped bruises on his hips, and she waits until he is asleep, believing himself in the Sorceresses arms, before she leaves, and outside it's cold, cold, cold, and she retreats to her hotel room where the walls are covered in cobwebs and a thousand eyes stare back at her from intricately woven strands of spider silk, and she wraps herself up in blankets and thinks of the tenderness in his eyes as he touched her._

_Sweet, worshipful man. Thalia wants someone to look at her that way, even when she crushes it out of him, she wants him to believe her a goddess, the universe itself, and thinks maybe she will make him believe, believe, believe she loves him even as she watches him wither into dust._

_She sleeps, and dreams and when she wakes, she feels Ellone in her head as the cobwebs on the walls fade away and are replaced by boring pin-striped wallpaper. She reaches out and seizes hold of Ellone's mind, senses another there and delves deeper, the Knight, the murder, Ultimecia's boy..._

Ellone jerked awake as the seizure hit. Flashes of hell, a dusty crumbling shack, a view from under a bed, needles, needles, _needles_ , Balamb from a distance, and a whole world spitting apart...

_...I want to understand..._

_...Ze only vay to understand is to take ze sing apart, you see, and find out vat it iz made of..._

_...I want to break them..._

_...under vat conditions vill ze subject succumb to fear, under vat conditions vill ze subject experience mental diztrezz so extreme, zey can no longer function? Zat iz ze question..._

_...finish what I started..._

But when Ellone opened her eyes and focused, she wasn't the one in the grips of seizure, but Seifer.

* * *

After a quick breakfast and coffee, Rinoa ran up to the bookstore for some files she needed to do the taxes while Squall pulled the rest from the file cabinet in the office. He cleared the kitchen table and stacked the file folders by subject and content – receipts, vendor invoices, profit and loss statements, bank deposit slips – and one by one, he looked through them to get a clearer picture of where they were financially.

It helped more than he thought it would to have something like this to focus on. Counting things as he lay awake was one thing, but actual work was welcome. Accounting made sense to him. It was organized and logical, and numbers didn't lie.

As he sorted through a folder marked _miscellaneous_ , he found a sheet of paper that didn't belong. He sat back and stared at the words on the page, an ugly ball of dread and fear in his gut.

Ari's birth certificate.

He took in the date and time, the name of the attending doctor and witness. Rinoa, identified as the boy's mother, but it was the signature on the bottom that set Squall's compass spinning again.

Not _Father: Squall Leonhart (deceased)_ as he expected.

Not left blank.

_Father: Zell Dincht_

Squall pushed the document away, at arm's length like it was toxic and he thought maybe he was going to be sick. He recognized Zell's signature at the bottom. He'd willingly signed his name on the line and claimed the boy as his.

It wasn't the thought of the two turning to one another for comfort in the wake of his supposed death, it was the possibility that it started long before, that not everything Thalia showed him was truly a lie.

An image of that mean faced Zell, with his too sharp teeth flickered to life across the table, grinning with triumph as Squall rose slowly to his feet. His lifted his cane and took a swing at the false Zell and the apparition dissolved into mist, spiraled away and reformed in a different chair.

"She loved it."

Squall backed away from the table, heartsick, angry, confused, lost, and fight or flight instinct told him to run as far and as fast as he could before it was too late.

Zell number two vanished with a nasty laugh and Squall wondered how far off the deep end he'd gone this time.

"Shut up," he said to the space the illusion vacated.

Then Zell was back, his fists clenched at his sides, an ugly sneer on his face.

"I oughta smash your face in for what you did to Rin."

Sure this too was an illusion, Squall swung his cane with all the force he could muster. He struck the phantom in the ribs, and it yelped, balled up its fists and tackled Squall to the ground. On the way down, his head smacked the heavy oak buffet and his vision blurred.

"Why would you do that to her? _Why?!_ "

Fists pummeled his face and his sides and Squall's lip split, his nose broke, but Squall felt nothing.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The man above him slipped back and forth between normal Zell, his friend, and the smirking, sharp-toothed demon of his imprisonment. Squall lifted a fist and returned Zell's punch as hard as he could, which wasn't hard enough, and it glanced off Zell's cheek, ineffectual and too weak to do any damage.

"I love her, you idiot!" Zell shouted. "I love her and the kids and I'm not!" _Punch to the ribs._ "Gonna let you!" _Fist to the kidney_. "Hurt her!" _Knuckles to nose._

Squall sagged back into the carpet as pain flared though his whole body, and he gave up any pretense of a fight. If Zell killed him, so be it. He would rather die than suffer more.

"How long?"

"A long time," Zell said meanly. "And I would never, _ever_ hit her, you piece of crap!"

Zell's lip curled up in distaste and he popped Squall in the nose again. Squall didn't even feel it as his mind began to shut down.

Squall wiped blood from his broken nose and looked at the smear of red on his hand. Behind Zell, six more of him smiled their vicious smiles. Either Thalia still had a hold on him, or he was going crazy. Of the two, he preferred crazy. Crazy could be medicated into quiet bliss. Thalia was terminal cancer.

Zell's hand slid around Squall's neck and tightened. Squall sputtered, choked, but didn't stop him.

"I know you're fucked up, but it doesn't give you the right to hurt her," Zell hissed. "And if she leaves you for it, I don't blame her one bit."

Squall didn't understand what Zell was saying. If he was really Zell at all.

"She would have hurt me back," Squall murmured. "Magic..."

Zell pulled back and all the hostility in his face turned to confusion.

"I saw what I saw."

All the extra Zells laughed, and their faces twisted into menacing grins full of shark teeth. Squall shut his eyes and shut off his mind and found that dark, safe space inside his head where nothing could hurt him.

* * *

Rinoa turned to the house with the necessary files and breezed into the kitchen to pour herself another cup of coffee before they set to work on the taxes. It was still freezing cold outside, but the sun was out and the trains were running again. She doubted there would still be snow on the ground by the end of the day, but unless the temperature warmed drastically, it would freeze overnight, and the roads would be slick in the morning.

"Squall, do you want another cup of coffee?" she called. "There's about a cup left."

There was no answer from the dining room and Rinoa peered around the corner. File folders were spread out across the table in neat piles, but Squall wasn't there. She frowned but guessed he must have stepped out to use the restroom, and she added her files to the rest.

She opened her laptop, turned it on and waited impatiently through the boot screen, then called up the tax program. The sooner they got this done, the better. Laguna would bring the kids back some time early afternoon, and Rinoa wouldn't mind a little more time alone with Squall before it was back to the usual chaos of kids underfoot and constant questions and potty training.

Her hands wrapped around her coffee mug and she smiled to herself at the progress made in the last twenty-four hours. It wasn't by leaps and bounds, but it was more than she expected and for the first time since he'd come home, she had real hope he wasn't completely destroyed.

When he didn't return within a few minutes, Rinoa began to worry. She set her coffee aside and went in search of him.

"Squall?" she called as she made a circuit of the first floor. "Where did you go?"

He didn't respond, and her worry became genuine concern. She checked outside and in the garage before she climbed the stairs and noticed a smear of drying blood on the wall. She jogged up the rest of the way, and searched, room by room until she found him curled up in a corner in their bedroom.

"Squall?"

He sat with his head between his knees, folded in on himself. Rinoa dropped to the floor next to him and and peered at him, unsure of what was going on.

"Hey, what happened?" she murmured and reached out to stroke his hair.

He jumped and scrambled away from her, his eyes wild and his face bloodied, and Rinoa pressed a hand over her mouth to hold back a cry.

"Don't touch me," he hissed.

"Who did this, Squall?" she demanded.

He tossed a balled up piece of paper at her but she ignored it and crawled a little closer. She took his face in her hands to inspect his injuries, but he threw his arms over his head defensively as if he expected to be struck.

"You're bleeding," she murmured. "Let me help you."

"No."

She ripped the bangle from her wrist and waves of fear that wasn't her own slammed into her, sharp and intense, and she cast full cure to mend whatever damage she could.

_I wish a cure could fix your mind..._

"Why?" he asked. "Why would Zell think I hit you?"

Rinoa stared at him, confused by the question.

"I want the truth, Rin," he said.

"The truth about what?" she asked.

He wiped his hands over his healed, but bloody face. Rinoa got up, went to the bathroom and wet a washcloth, sure he was confused or hallucinating or in the midst of a panic attack, and she wasn't sure how else to help. Whatever this was, he was not thinking clearly, and she worried that he'd done this to himself.

Back in the bedroom, the balled up piece of paper lay smoothed out on the carpet. Squall stared at it and ignored the wash cloth she offered, and when she moved in to clean him up herself, he pushed her away.

"Please tell me what happened," she said. "I can't help you if I don't understand."

"Help me," he scoffed. "It's not help I need, it's the truth."

Frustrated, Rinoa cast the washcloth aside and sat back on her heels.

"What truth?" she demanded.

"Explain that," Squall said and pointed to he uncrumpled sheet of paper.

Rinoa picked it up, glanced at it and frowned. "Ari's birth certificate? What about it?"

"Why is _his_ name on it?"

Rinoa peered at the document, confused. She never really looked at it. After she brought Ari home, it went into the file cabinet with all the other important pieces of paper that seldom saw the light of day.

There, on the bottom line, above _Father_ was Zell's name and signature.

Rinoa sighed and dropped the certificate on the floor. This was no big deal. A clerical error that she overlooked in the midst of all the other chaos going on around her.

"Squall, that's a mistake," she said. "He probably didn't even look at what he was signing."

"Right."

Rinoa winced at his sarcastic tone and her blood started to boil. They already discussed Zell's role while Squall was gone, and she admitted to a moment of weakness, but it was clear Squall believed there was more.

"It's a mistake," she insisted. "The day Ari was born, I fell at the store, lost a fair amount of blood, and was too out of it after to hold a pen to paper. Zell had power of attorney, he signed things on my behalf. It's just a mistake, Squall."

Squall's laugh was bitter, disbelieving, and Rinoa fought back the urge to shake sense back into him. It wasn't his fault he was paranoid to the point of irrationality, but this conversation was no less frustrating because of it.

"You never noticed?"

"I was too busy trying to run a house and a business," she said. "It was hard enough to get out of bed every day, let alone make sure every, single piece of paper that crossed my desk was filled out and signed correctly."

He pushed away from the wall and eased to his feet, his eyes fixed on the birth certificate on the floor.

"I think... I need to not be here," he said.

"Don't," she said as cold fear stabbed into her heart. "Please don't."

"My death nullified any and all obligation to each other," he said softly. "Maybe, it's for the best."

Rinoa shot to her feet and blocked his retreat. Electricity blazed under her skin, hot and cold at the same time and her chest tightened in anticipation of a fight. She would fight to keep him here, fight to bring him back to the man he once was, fight to prove she still loved him, even if it meant hurting him to make him stay.

"I won't let you walk away," she said. "Not from me, or the kids."

"Looks like you and the kids are better off without me," he said, "all things considered."

"No," she said. "We're not. We need you. _I need you._ "

His lips pressed into a thin line and he looked up at the stained glass rosette with so much sadness, it brought tears to her eyes.

"I could understand if you moved on, Rin," he said quietly. "I was gone a long time. But don't fucking lie about it. Not to me."

"I haven't lied about anything," she said. "You asked me, I told you the truth."

A single tear trailed down his cheek and mingled with the drying blood on his chin, and it took everything Rinoa had in her to keep from dragging him to the bathroom to clean him up, to keep from throwing her arms around him to keep him safe from himself. Whatever twisted things he imagined or saw, whatever happened to reduce him to this state after so much progress, she wanted to combat them with love and kindness and he wouldn't let her.

"Why did you tell Dincht I hit you?"

"I didn't," she said. "I haven't seen him in a week."

"Why would he tell me you've been together for a long time?"

"We were never together!" Rinoa shouted. "Get that through your thick head, Squall. Whatever you believe happened, it didn't."

"I don't know what to believe," he said. "But I know I don't really belong here anymore."

"Of course you do."

The corner of his mouth hitched up into an ironic, humorless smirk and he glanced around the room. His eyes slid over the pictures on the wall and over the dresser before they finally fell on her.

"There's nothing left of me in this house," he said. "No picture, no personal things. You went out of your way to erase me."

"That's not it at all!"

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I need some time," he said. "Away."

Rinoa stood frozen, staring at him while he stared at the floor, one hand wrapped too tightly around the handle of his cane.

"You were gone for two years..." she said. She nearly burst into tears, but held it back as hurt turned to anger. "What about Ella? And Ari? You don't even know your son!"

Squall blinked at her, his face blank and his eyes far away.

"I'm not even sure he's mine."

Stunned, Rinoa sat down on the edge of the bed. Hurt, anger, disbelief all mingled together and stole away her words. It was one thing to have doubts about what might have happened in those two years, but the insinuation she'd been unfaithful well before he disappeared was a slap in the face.

"I can't believe you just said that to me," she whispered.

She couldn't even get up when Squall limped from the room, and not until she heard the front door slam did she let her tears fall. His doubt explained so much and yet so little and Rinoa climbed back into bed, covered herself with the blanket and decided to stay there.

* * *

It was too cold to be wandering around outside, but following his misguided assault on Squall, Zell wandered the beach, a bottle of Mimmet whiskey in hand, questioning everything he knew. He was sick over what he'd done, and over his inability to confront Squall like a rational person.

He was no better than his old man, solving his problems and frustrations with his fists instead of words. He assaulted a guy who couldn't walk without a cane, a guy who he used to call his best friend, and felt like a world-class asshole for doing it.

Whatever happened between them, Zell was no longer sure it was as Rinoa said. Which made either Squall an abuser, or Rinoa a liar, and neither were things he could get his head around.

Squall wasn't wrong in saying Rinoa would hurt him back. She was perfectly capable of defending herself, if not physically, then with magic, and with Squall as frail as he still was, it wouldn't be hard to fell him. If Zell bothered to think things through before he reacted, there would be no question things weren't what they seemed, but as usual, he let his temper get in the way of reason.

That part confused him, and he was no longer sure what happened, or why. Either way, he messed up, and he wasn't so sure Rinoa would forgive him for it.

Further down the beach, a woman sat on a rock in only a thin white shift like a nightgown, her long, pale hair streaming in the ocean wind. Zell drank and watched her in silence, his curiosity piqued by her apparent immunity to the cold. Then, he turned his eyes to the sea and ignored her.

He drank until he didn't feel the cold, then drank some more to kill the regret and the anger and the confusing storm of love and hatred brewing in his belly. Just when he was almost over it, ready to move on, she'd come back to drag him back down.

Doubts crept in. The longer he drank, the less he was sure it wasn't all just a dream.

But if it wasn't, where had the scratches come from? The bruises on his hips?

"You look like you're having a bad day."

Zell was so lost in thought he hadn't seen or heard the woman approach, and he startled to his feet half in anticipation of a fight.

"I didn't mean to scare you," she said. "Are you all right?"

Zell nodded and lifted the bottle to his lips, and he looked the woman over, less curious than annoyed by the interruption. She was pretty, young, and absolutely nuts to be out here without at least a sweater on.

"You're not cold?" he asked.

"Freezing."

He snorted, turned his eyes back to the sea and waited for her to get the hint he wanted to be left alone. She stayed put, the thin shift waving in the breeze like a white flag of surrender.

"You ever do something you're not proud of?" she asked. "Tell a lie? Betray a friend?"

Zell cut his eyes at her, a weird ball of dread and guilt in his stomach.

"I destroyed someone, broke up a marriage," she said, matter of fact. "Made a man believe I loved him."

She said it the way people talked about the weather or a pair of shoes. Zell took an unconscious step back, unnerved by her silvery, clinical gaze.

Something cold slithered up his leg, under the fabric of his pants, and Zell shuddered as he tried to kick it away. The woman smiled and laughed like he'd told a joke, and her hand found its way into his.

He pulled away, but an invisible tether wrapped around his wrist and held him fast as her icy fingers gripped tighter.

"This will be easier if you don't fight me, Zell."


	22. Chapter 22

_22_

* * *

The seas were still rough, but the wind died down enough to safely navigate the distance back to Balamb. Seifer's stomach protested the pitch and roll of the small charter in the waves, but it was easier to manage if he could keep his eyes on the bridge or the distant shore.

Everything hurt. His muscles shook in the wake of the seizure, but he tried not to show it. He'd come out of it unsure of where he was and with little control over his own body. Hours later his hands still didn't want to work the way they were supposed to and the muscles of his calves shook when he stood.

"You look a little green," Ellone said.

"This one time, when we were junior cadets," Seifer said, "Dincht dared me to stick my tongue into an open electrical socket. Wasn't right for days, ran into walls and shit. This feels like that." He paused to rub his eyes. "Like I got my brains scrambled."

She patted his thigh and offered a sympathetic smile.

"How do you do it, El?" he asked. "Is it always this bad?"

"Sometimes it's worse," she said.

Seifer cursed under his breath and brought her knuckles to his lips.

"She targeted you," Ellone said.

Seifer understood less of that shared dream than Ellone did, but that part was pretty clear. Thalia sensed him and moved in for the kill. She found him _interesting._ The way a serial killer in the making found picking wings off flies interesting.

"Better me than you," he said.

"Zell's not safe, either."

"None of us are safe."

Seifer dropped his head into Ellone's lap and stretched out on the bench. He still felt like shit, needed a nap, and once they made port, there wouldn't be time to rest. Thalia was running around pretending to be Rinoa, Squall was in the midst of a freak out, and Dincht needed a few ribs broken for coveting his best friend's wife.

"This is not my idea of a good time, Elle," he said. "Never thought I'd be the rational one at any point in time, no matter how crazy shit is."

"I don't know if I'd call you rational."

Seifer cracked open and eye and glared up at her with false indignation. She smirked, pinched his nose let her hand rest against his chest.

"What would you call me?"

" _Mine."_

He grinned, lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"That mean you're gonna move in with me?"

"We're off topic."

"You're avoiding the question.

"We'll discuss it later."

She looked away, out the big glass window and chewed her bottom lip. Seifer frowned up at her, but she didn't see it. Her focus was far away, her thoughts spinning in six different directions and it was tough to keep up. Seifer was used to thinking in straight lines, with a singular focus and purpose, but Ellone bounced from topic to topic, and the one Seifer was most interested in was the one she kept avoiding.

_What are you afraid of, Elle?_

"Zell should be our first stop," she said, as if she hadn't heard him. "He's in the most danger, I think. I keep trying to get through, but there's nothing."

"Is that what that black, out of focus shit is?" he wondered.

She nodded. "She's blocking me."

"Like she did with Squall."

"Maybe," she said. "She's already gotten inside Zell's head, I just hope…"

"I know," Seifer agreed. "Don't ever tell him I said this, but he's tough. He'll be okay."

"She already exploited his weakness," Ellone said. "It'll be easier for her to crush him now."

If Thalia somehow managed to get ahold of Seifer, it would be Ellone she used to inflict the most pain. At the start of this whole thing, if it was Seifer in Squall's place, there wasn't a soul in the world she could have used to hurt him, not even Raijin or Fujin.

He never meant for her to matter so much.

Unsettled, Seifer sat up and checked his watch.

Twenty minutes to port.

And he had a feeling, twenty minutes until all hell broke loose.

* * *

Squall struggled to manage his bag and his cane as he walked down the incline toward the Balamb Hotel. A dull numbness settled over him as he looked toward the harbor where all the fishing boats lined up along the dock. The morning sunlight was gone, the sky steely and heavy with the promise of rain. Squall wasn't confident he could navigate the slick cobblestone sidewalk without falling.

He questioned everything he knew as he went inside the hotel and paid for a room for the night. Everything since this morning was a blur, and he could barely make sense of the events, or even which parts were real.

Key in hand, he went upstairs, kicked off his shoes and went straight to bed.

He didn't sleep. He lay on the bed with the lights off and stared up at the ceiling alternately shivering and sweating in fear and confusion.

The kid looked nothing like Zell, but he looked nothing like Squall, either. Some said the boy looked like Laguna, but all Squall saw in his face was Fury Caraway. That offered Squall no confirmation, other than he was Rinoa's child, but that was never in doubt.

Rinoa loved him, didn't she?

Did she?

If he took Thalia and the things he'd seen while in her custody out of the equation, was there any reason to believe she was unfaithful? Was there any sign of false devotion or deception?

" _I love her!"_

Hyne, was any of it real? How could he believe any of it, when the logical part of him knew there was only one Zell and not six, seven, however many showed up to torment him. He still feared them, and their words, and the fists they raised against him. He feared they might be truth, might be evidence his perfect life before was not what it seemed, or even a product of a permanently fractured mind.

Rinoa and Zell were close. They'd always been close, and he couldn't recall a time when their friendship ever got in the way or caused Squall to doubt her feelings. Until recently, he saw their relationship as sibling-like, and nothing more.

The things he doubted were there because Thalia put them there.

Weren't they?

Yet Squall knew deep down in his soul, Zell was the better choice for her, and he always would be.

Zell would never be too embarrassed to hold her hand or kiss her in public. He would be proud to do it and wouldn't question whether or not it was appropriate. He was fun, outgoing, and had no problem speaking his mind, He would never hesitate to tell her he loved her, never hold back all those complicated emotions that went along with it. He would make her laugh, would worship the very ground she walked upon and would love the kids every bit as much at Squall did.

Maybe, it was for the best to let her go.

She deserved more than Squall could give right now, and he saw it in her eyes – frustrated, overburdened, overworked and underappreciated. Squall couldn't lighten her load. He still had too many battles of his own to fight, and he still felt so out of place here, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever belong again.

He should have stayed dead.

Maybe he should just walk away, go back to Esthar or rent an apartment in Deling City until he sorted himself out.

Squall's message chime went off and he glanced at the screen on his phone. It went off twice more before he could read the first message, then twice more. Laguna never understood that it took a minute to respond.

Irritated, he scrolled through the messages one by one.

_Where are you son?_

_I'm at the house, and you aren't here._

_Message me back, ASAP._

_I'm worried._

_Rinoa's crying. What happened?_

In typical Laguna style, the phone rang before Squall could message back.

"Where are you?" Laguna asked.

"Dollet," he lied.

"How in Hyne's name did you get there?"

"Ferry," Squall said. "How else?"

Laguna paused, and then gave a nervous laugh.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know."

"You could tell me what happened," Laguna said. "Oh, hang on. Ella wants to talk to you."

"No, Dad, don't-"

But it was too late. There was a rustle, a thump, and then Ella's voice in his ear. Squall gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, his free hand balled into a fist at his side.

"Dad?"

"Hey, sweetie."

"Are you coming home?" she asked.

"In a few days," he said, but his voice broke and his eyes began to burn. "I'll be back in a few days."

"Last time you said that, you didn't come home for years," she said.

"I know," he said, his voice hoarse. "But I promise, I'll come back this time."

"You have to come home now," she insisted. "Mom's upset and Grandpa doesn't know what to do."

Squall pressed a hand over his face and lifted the phone away so Ella wouldn't hear him falling apart. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and began to count backward from 100.

"Dad, Ari wants to say hi," Ella said. "Say hi Ari!"

"Da, ma tuddle got begabbers," the boy said in his ear. "El em coo-gees."

Squall didn't know what any of that meant, but it brought tears to his eyes. He sniffled and nodded at the phone, unsure of everything and at war with himself about whether or not it even mattered what name was on that birth certificate.

Laguna came back on the line, but the lump in Squall's throat hurt so bad, he couldn't get a coherent response around it.

"I know you're not in Dollet, son," Laguna said. "Ferry doesn't leave for another hour. Weather's been too bad."

Squall sniffled and pressed a fist to his forehead. Of all times for Laguna to be on top of things, it had to be now.

"Let me come get you," Laguna said. "Where are you?"

Squall hesitated. The point of stepping away was to clear his head and figure out what to do next without the distraction of people in his face constantly, people asking questions and fawning over him like he was an invalid and incapable of making decisions on his own.

"I need to think," he hissed around the knot in his throat. "I just need a time out."

"What's there to think about?" Laguna wondered. "You've got two beautiful kids, a nice, big house and an amazing wife who loves you. What else is there?"

"Please don't," Squall hissed. "You don't understand."

A rustle, a soft sigh and then a sniffle.

"What's there to understand?" Laguna asked.

* * *

Zell opened his eyes to near perfect darkness all around him. Wherever he was, it smelled of dust and wet earth and faintly of mildew. From somewhere on his left came a rustle of foliage and the chattering of agitated of Grats. He struggled to sit up, or stand up or otherwise become vertical, only to realize he was _already_ vertical.

His arms were bound somewhere above and his feet barely touched the ground, even under his sagging weight. A sharp pain flared through his shoulders as he struggled against the restraints. The commotion drew the Grats interest and Zell froze as the chattering-cheeping got louder and closer.

The only place in Balamb one might find Grats was the training center at Garden. They weren't native to the island otherwise, but it wasn't the Grats concerned him so much, as the possibility the T-rexars were still around.

Something feathered over his bare legs. It was too dark to see what it was, but Zell's imagination conjured up Grats afflicted with gigantism and hungry T-rexaurs with teeth as tall as trees, and all kinds of other monsters and horrors Garden never stocked.

"They won't hurt you unless I tell them to," a woman said.

Zell started at the sound of her voice, but he didn't demand to be let go. SeeDs were taught that never worked anyway, so it wasn't worth wasting breath over. He needed to find out as much as possible about his captor and say as little as possible in response.

Zell being Zell, this not an easy task. He was never one to keep his trap shut when it mattered.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Don't care," he said in his very best imitation of Squall.

"You should," she said. "You and me, we could be good friends."

Zell couldn't see her, but he sensed she was close. A gust of warm breath feathered over his lower abdomen, her nails raked lightly down his sides. He grunted and twisted away from her touch, terrified she was about to do the same things she'd done to Squall.

"You men are all so easy to toy with," she said. "It's disappointing, really. Fun, for a while, but ultimately every one of you is exactly the same."

She swept a hand over his stomach, a fingertip circled his bellybutton. Zell cringed and gritted his teeth. He _hated_ having his bellybutton touched.

"See, I thought _you_ would be interesting," she said. "You seemed so _pure_ , but you turned out to be just like the rest, didn't you?"

She sighed and the sound of her footsteps in the darkness indicated she circled him. Zell couldn't see squat. Not her and not the space around him or the Grats thrashing through the undergrowth nearby.

A hand slid up his back, soft fingertips explored the ridge of bone and curve of muscle, swept over his sides to his waist, over bare skin, abdomen, navel, pectoral muscle. Zell fought back waves of nausea as it dawned on him it was her all along. He fell for her warped and twisted promises. Whether in a dream or in reality, it wasn't Rinoa that came to him in the night, a mistake he realized far too late.

Squall would never raise a hand to her. But if he ever dared, Rinoa could easily defend herself. Zell wanted to believe so badly, he missed every sign of something amiss. He acted without thinking, without considering why, and now he was in over his head.

"Women are much harder to dissect," she said, matter of fact. "Your friend Ellone, for example. She's complicated."

"Don't you mess with Ellone," Zell warned.

"That's the whole point of you being here," she said with a soft laugh. "Did you think you were special?"

"I think you're nuts."

Heat flared against the soles of Zell's feet and he clenched his teeth to hold back a scream. Flames rose up in the darkness and illuminated the woman's face. She smiled when Zell met her gaze and he'd never known fear quite like this. There was something inhuman in her eyes, something hungry and savage and insectile and Zell suspected she would sacrifice him in a heartbeat if it brought her closer to Ellone.

"We can do this the easy way," she said, "and you play along with whatever I decide to do. Or, I can make you all those things you don't want to do."

"Liar."

"I made you last night," she said and laughed without humor. "You believed it, didn't you?"

"You crazy bi -!"

She raked a fingernail down the center line of his body, from the hollow of his throat to the waistband of his boxers and his accusation died in his throat. Blood trickled down the midline of his body, and he bowed his back, away from her as her tongue snaked out for a taste.

"Did you really think she'd come to you that way?" she asked. "Or be that eager to climb into your bed?"

Flames licked up against his feet and legs, and he smelled burning hair as flames lashed over his skin. Sweating, every muscle in his body tightened as the soles his feet blistered. Unwanted tears poured from his eyes as he writhed against the flames, and he thrashed in his chains as his heart broke and his flesh burned.

Of course it wouldn't be that easy. Hyne, he was a fool.

"At least Leonhart put up a good fight," she said. "You wanted it to be real so badly, I barely had to try."

"What do you want from me?"

Her face, painted in amber, twisted, morphed, and her eyes and hair darkened and reflected the firelight. Zell shut his eyes against the illusion of Rinoa's battered, tear streaked face. Her tears hurt him anyway, nearly as much as the real thing.

A hand locked around his throat and sharp nails dug into his skin.

"Look at me."

Zell squeezed his eyes shut tight. He wouldn't look. _Couldn't_ look.

But his eyes opened involuntarily and what he saw before him sucked him under, stomped his heart, and the tears of pain became tears of sorrow.

Zell wept for all his stupid fantasies about family, for all his daydreams of being a father to kids that were never his in the first place, and that almost-was but never-meant-to-be thing with Rinoa.

"I could give you everything you want, if you let me," she said. "But it's not the Sorceress you love. Not really. It's just the _idea_ of her, the idea of family, and you want it so bad, you don't care whose family it is."

Zell shuddered, sniffled, and fought against his restraints, wounded by this truth, burned and stung and _hurt_ because she wasn't wrong. Not completely.

"Help me bring Ellone and her companion here," she said. "And maybe, I'll make your dreams come true."

Zell shook his head, but the room swam around him, dissolved and reshaped itself into the beach. His pain faded as warm sunshine spilled down on his skin and he wiggled his scorched toes against damp sand…

… _Rinoa stands at the water's edge, her dark hair damp and tangled, her body clad in a black bikini that is somehow racy and innocent at the same time, and she casts a smile over her shoulder. Zell's heart leaps in his chest because that smile is meant for him, and him alone, and if there's anything more perfect than this, Zell doesn't know it._

_An older Ari thrashes happily in the shallow water and throws himself into each small wave as it breaks on the shore. Strands of dark hair stick to the boy's forehead and his dark brown eyes sparkle with delight as he beckons Zell to join him in the water._

" _Daddy!" he shouts. "Fight sea monsters wiff me!"_

_And Zell does. Ella, in a mask and snorkel, plays the sea monster for them as Rinoa wades through the shallow water and laughs at their antics._

_It's perfect and beautiful and it breaks Zell's heart into pieces because it's just a fantasy, one he will never touch in real life, never even come close to and the man Ari calls daddy isn't Zell at all…._

Brilliant sunshine melted into pitch darkness. Hot tears spilled down Zell's cheeks and he hung in his restraints, grief stricken and resigned as the fantasy faded. No flames, no pain, no light, only the sound of Grats thrashing through the bushes and foliage somewhere nearby.

* * *

Rinoa paced the bedroom, Ari's birth certificate clutched in hand. Downstairs, jazz music played and every now and then, a peal of laughter drifted up the stairs as Laguna taught Ella the steps to some dance Rinoa was unfamiliar with. When Selphie's laughter joined Ella's, Rinoa closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed.

Over the years, they disagreed from time to time. Rarely did it devolve into a shouting match or end with one of them storming out without at least coming to understand one another, if not a resolution. And of the two of them, Rinoa was the one who walked away when emotions ran too high, and never for long.

What happened to him that he lacked trust in her? What kind of lies was he told, that he would believe her capable of betraying him? How damaged was he that he believed it?

She sat on the bed and opened the drawer of her nightstand to retrieve the photo she'd put away and she stared at it. A healthier, happier Squall stared back at her, and she wiped away a tear and wished to have that Squall back, not this broken, paranoid and fearful man that had come home in his place.

It took years to build him up into the man he became, years to undo all the damage of such a devastatingly lonely childhood, to build trust, to get him to open up and take down his walls. And whatever Thalia Blackheart did to him, whatever she took away from him, there was little left that Rinoa recognized. Here and there were flashes of the man he'd been, but they were so rare now, Rinoa feared she might never see him complete again.

She started as there came a soft knock on the bedroom door. She set the photo aside and dried her eyes, then called for the visitor to come in.

To her surprise, it wasn't Ella or Selphie or even Laguna, but Irvine. He nodded as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

Irvine flitted in and out of their lives as Selphie alternately drew him in and pushed him away. Over the years, his absences became longer and his location mostly unknown. Rinoa long ago learned not to ask questions, as Irvine was apt to make something up, and she suspected his adventures were less eventful than he let on.

"Hey," she greeted.

"You look like you've had better days," Irvine said as he worried the brim of his hat in his hands. "Everything okay?"

Rinoa shook her head. Wordlessly, she laid the crumpled birth certificate on the bed beside her. Irvine stepped further into the room and picked it up, examined it in silence and made a soft tisking sound as he laid it back down.

"Not to be nosy, but that's a clerical error, right?" Irvine asked.

"It's a mistake," Rinoa confirmed.

"So what's the problem?"

"Squall thinks it's fact," she said softly. "He thinks I had an affair."

"Oh, man," Irvine said. He sat beside her and dropped an arm around her shoulders. "I hate this for the both of you. I know it can't be easy."

"I thought it would be easier, that the worst of it was over, but it's like, one step forward, two steps back," she said. "Every time I think he's going to be okay, it gets a little worse."

"You can't undo two years of torture or whatever the hell he went through in a few months, Rin," Irvine said. "He's still in there, you just gotta be patient."

"What if he's not?" she asked, her voice small and fearful. "What if he never comes back?"

Irvine tightened his grip on her shoulders.

"Well, then you gotta make a choice, don't you?" he said. "Stay and love him anyway, even though it isn't what it used to be, or move on and try to find happiness elsewhere."

Rinoa frowned and leaned back to look at her friend.

"You're not talking about Squall, are you?"

Irvine looked away, so, _so_ guilty and shook his head at his battered cowboy boots. Just like clockwork, he and Selphie were about to implode and go their separate ways.

How predictable.

"Where are you going this time?" Rinoa asked.

"Same place I always go," he said. "Home."

It occurred to Rinoa she barely knew him anymore, or where his home really was, or where he went when he and Selphie weren't together. His life of late was a mystery, by his own design, and Rinoa wondered if they were all just too involved with their own lives to ask questions, or if he kept it vague on purpose.

"Where is that?" she asked. "Deling City?"

"More or less. I gotta go back to work, Rin."

"I don't even know what you do for a living," Rinoa said.

"I sell firearms," he said with a half-smile. "What else?"

They sat quietly, Rinoa's eyes fixed on the photo of Squall again.

"You're leaving her again," she said.

Irvine wiped his eyes and nodded.

"It's gotta be for good this time," he said.  "I can't keep doin' this."

"Why?" Rinoa asked. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Give up on each other?" she asked. "What's the point of even trying if all you're going to do is give up? Why wouldn't you fight for each other?"

"It's not so easy, Rin," Irvine said. "We're not like you and Squall. Took me too many years to figure it out, but we're not like you guys. All we do is hurt each other…"

There was real pain in Irvine's voice, real regret. When Rinoa looked him in the eye, she understood this was no frivolous drama but a tough decision that would hurt as much as it brought needed relief.

"We're toxic together," Irvine said. "She doesn't know when to stop, and I… I don't know how to commit. You know I'm crazy about her, but better to end it now, before we wind up married for real and with kids and a mortgage that neither of us really wants."

"Does she know?" Rinoa asked. "That you're leaving?"

"…not yet."

Rinoa covered her face with her hands and shook her head. There was nothing to say after watching the two of them walk this road again and again with the same destination each time. It saddened her to know maybe, no matter how much two people loved one another, sometimes there was no saving the relationship. Sometimes, it wasn't enough just to love each other.

Irvine gathered his Stetson into his lap and worried the brim in silence as he stared at his boots.

"You two aren't like us, Rin," he said. "Don't give up on him, okay? Don't give up on him yet. Keep fighting for him, 'cause I don't think he's ready to fight for himself, you know?"

Tears spilled down Irvine's cheeks and he stood up and wiped his eyes with his forearm. Rinoa got the sense again, he wasn't speaking entirely about Squall. She reached out and caught his hand.

"Fight for yourself, Irvine," she said. "Instead of running away…"

He turned, tipped his hat and fled the room, leaving Rinoa to wonder how long it would be before she saw him again and how heartbroken Selphie would be that he left.

She smoothed the crumpled birth certificate and ran her thumb over Zell's name and turned her gaze upon Squall's photo again.

Irvine was right. They weren't like any other couple Rinoa knew.

Whatever it took, she was prepared to fight.

* * *

Ellone pounded her fist against Zell's front door for the third time and got no answer. She stepped toward the small window and peeked inside. It was dark and nothing moved, and she knocked one more time, just in case he was upstairs.

Worried, she stepped back and looked up the street toward the garage, where Seifer peered into the small office window. He turned toward her and gave his head an exaggerated shake as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his peacoat and started back up the road.

She met him halfway and sensed right away, he was struggling. Connected the way they were, it wasn't just his thoughts she picked up on. The seizures Thalia inflicted hit him hard and his body still hadn't recovered.

"No luck," he said. "Come on. Let's head back to the hotel, get something to eat and figure out where to go from there."

Ellone shivered as the wind cut through her light jacket and agreed. Food, maybe a shower, and then regroup. She didn't even need a meal, just a big mug of hot tea and maybe another layer of clothing.

In her room, Seifer called room service as Ellone turned the heater up full blast and held her frozen fingers over the vent until she could feel them again and she stopped shivering.

"We're gonna take a vacation once this is all over, El," Seifer swore. "Somewhere warm."

"We?" she asked.

"As in you and me," he said. "We've earned it, haven't we?"

"It's not over yet," she said.

Seifer fell silent and when Ellone turned around there was something like fear in his expression. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to speak, but no words came out. Several seconds passed before he turned away and stripped off his coat and dropped into a chair by the table.

Ellone ignored the thing he didn't say and the thing she wasn't ready to say back. It wasn't easy for her to promise things or commit or look too far forward into the future. She was too used to a life on the move, of impermanence and solitude, it was nearly impossible to picture herself settled.

If Seifer picked up her thoughts, he didn't let on, but he said nothing as they waited for food to arrive. When it did, he wolfed down a plate of pancakes while Ellone wrapped her hands around a mug of tea and picked at a bowl of fruit.

_Ellone…_

She sat up straight, wide eyed as Seifer's hand clamped around hers.

… _Zell hangs from a spider web of knotted rope by the wrists, a trail of clotting blood from throat to navel, and his chin rests against his chest. His feet, raw and red, barely touch the ground. Somewhere nearby, some creature chirps and bleats in agitation, but Ellone is unsure of where this place is…_

"Training Center," Seifer said. "Garden."

His expression turned grim as he pushed away his plate and he stood to curl a hand around Ellone's shoulder.

"Let's go kill her, El."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos, bookmarked, subscribed or commented! Y'all make my day!


	23. Chapter 23

 

* * *

 23

* * *

Rinoa paced the bedroom for a while after Irvine left, her thoughts a mess of worry and sadness and fear for their family. A steady rain tapped at the window and the light from the nightstand did nothing to brighten the room or her mood.

How to convince him of the truth when his fractured mind was full of lies and things that never happened?

Eventually, she went to the jewelry box and retrieved the pair of wedding rings from their box in the bottom drawer. Both carried the same inscription, both plain, simple bands of platinum. Nothing special, nothing fancy, but Rinoa wouldn't trade them for the world. Maybe they were no longer legally married, but that didn't matter. It didn't end her commitment and it never would.

She slipped on her ring and pocketed Squall's, then went to the closet and retrieved her warmest sweater, determined to set things right.

As she dressed, she decided on a course of action. She needed to speak with Zell first, to find out what happened, then she would track Squall down. Maybe neither was in any shape for confrontation, but Rinoa was tired of dancing around the unknowns and the miscommunication and the quiet tension that no one talked about.

She sat on the bed to pull on her shoes and a sound came from the bathroom, like the scrape of a boot sole against tile. Sure she was alone, Rinoa rose warily to her feet and edged toward the door. A second before she crossed the threshold, thousands of tiny spiders spilled out over the door frame in waves of gray-brown-black and she stepped back with a tiny yelp of fear and surprise.

They were _everywhere._

The darkness beyond the door morphed into the shape of a person, a woman, tall and slender with hair the exact shade of moonlight. Rinoa froze and stared back at her, ignoring the army of spiders that trekked along the walls and the ceiling and over the carpet.

She knew who this was, and she was filled with hatred for the woman who kept Squall alive only to torture him. Without thinking, she lifted a hand and cast Gravija on the specter and the woman dissolved into tendrils of smoke, her cruel laughter inhuman yet triumphant. Rinoa tasted blood on the back of her tongue but bravely stepped forward into the room on defense, ready to cast more magic if needed.

She flicked on the bathroom light and found the room empty, save the reflection in the mirror over the sink. In it, she saw not the opposite wall but a naked and shockingly thin Squall in Thalia's arms. Bitter jealousy swelled in her veins as she turned her eyes from the scene, sure what she saw wasn't real, but it dawned on her, _this was still happening_.

Thalia was still toying with him. She was still inflicting this torment on him. No wonder he doubted.

Had she done the same to Zell? Convinced him of wrongdoing on Squall's part? Made him an enemy in Zell's eyes?

The woman in the mirror smiled knowingly as if she agreed with Rinoa's theory, and Rinoa shivered at the coldness in the woman's face.

A single spider crawled across the counter top and Rinoa smashed it under her palm. It gave a satisfying squish, but she winced as it twitched against her hand. When she pulled back, there was no trace of it left.

Just another illusion.

"Leave us alone," Rinoa hissed. "Leave _him_ alone."

Thalia's laughter echoed through the bathroom and Rinoa's ire built.

"If I ever see you in person, I will tear you apart," Rinoa said. "You know that, though, don't you? That's why you never showed your face to me..."

Rinoa sneered at the pale, ghostly reflection of her husband's tormentor in the mirror.

"You're a coward," she accused. "I guess it's only fun when they can't fight back, huh?"

Thalia's smile broadened into a cruel grin, and a man's hand reached _through_ the mirror, fingers stretched toward Rinoa as if seeking help. Rinoa blinked in surprise as the hand turned palm up to reveal a deep diagonal slice across the wrist. Blood poured from the wound, into the sink and down the drain.

In horror, Rinoa backed away, sure it wasn't Squall's hand. It was too small, the palm too broad and work-roughened, the fingers too short. Squall's hands were artists hands, his palm narrower and his fingers slender.

The hand withdrew back into the mirror, but the blood remained in the sink.

"Leave us alone," Rinoa repeated and turned her back on the mirror and the bathroom.

She stalked into the bedroom, scared, furious, and with a new understanding of why Squall was so torn up and confused about what was real and what wasn't. It was imperative she find him, in case he wasn't safe, in case Thalia was somewhere nearby and inflicting more terror upon him.

Downstairs, she found Laguna, Selphie and the kids gathered around the small activity table in the living room. In spite of her worries and the horrors she'd just seen, she burst out laughing when she realized what was going on.

Ari wore a dozen or more plastic barrettes in his dark curls and a pair of pink sunglasses were perched on his nose. Ella's old ballet tutu hung loosely around his waist and he was busy pushing buttons on a musical learning toy Selphie picked out for its obnoxious and frequent proclamations of delight. Rinoa made a mental note to take the batteries out before it made her insane.

Laguna sat in a chair too small for him, wearing the frilly pink apron Selphie gifted her as a joke, dozens of pink and purple beads around his neck and a gold tiara studded with bright pink plastic gems. Ella was busy painting his fingernails a vivid shade of blue while Selphie applied glittery purple eye-shadow to his lids. On his lips, cherry red lipstick. His hair was braided into pigtails and tied on the ends with yellow ribbon.

"Mom!" Ella cried. "We're making grandpa pretty! And then we're having a tea party."

"I see that," Rinoa said through giggles, her appreciation for her father-in-law at an all-time high. "He looks _very_ pretty. The purple glitter really brings out the green in his eyes."

"Aww, shucks," Laguna said. His grin was broad, but his eyes were sad. "Will you guys give me a minute to talk to your mom?"

"Sure," Ella said, "but don't touch anything or you'll smear up your nails."

"Cross my heart and hope to cry," Laguna swore.

"Grandpa, that's not how it goes!"

"I like my way better. Less morbid," he said. He stood and angled his head toward the kitchen. "Back in a jiffy."

In the kitchen Rinoa looked him over, unable to hide her grin. She tugged one of his salt and pepper pig tails and wiped a smear of lipstick off his chin like he was one of her kids.

"This is a good look for you," she said.

"Gotta get fancied up when you're going to a tea party," he said with a smile. He sobered and patted her arm. "You don't need to explain. I know."

Unable to help herself, Rinoa stepped forward and embraced him. He might not be the most responsible person in the world, but she was grateful his natural childishness translated into a grandfather that was willing to sit down to tea parties and let his granddaughter dress him up in tiaras and nail polish. She was grateful he used his personal resources to find Squall and bring him home alive, and she was grateful he stayed, that he was there, and she loved him for it.

"Thank you, Laguna," she said. "You don't know how much I appreciate you."

"It's the least I can do," he said. "Never got to do this stuff with Squall..."

"I doubt he would have dressed you up," Rinoa said. "He probably would have just read a book and silently judged you from some dark corner."

Laguna chuckled. "You know what I mean."

Laguna shifted his weight from his bad leg and turned an unusually critical gaze on her.

"He's staying at the old Balamb Hotel," he said.

"Did he tell you that?" Rinoa wondered.

"Made a few calls, maybe bent the truth just a little," he said with a shrug.

"A little?"

"Okay, lied a lot," he said sheepishly. "They'll have a key card for you at the front desk. They think it's your anniversary."

"Laguna!"

"I had to tell them something," Laguna said.

Laguna Loire was a lot more on top of things than anyone gave him credit for. Rinoa hugged him again, kissed his cheek, glad he was there to make up for her own father's shortcomings.

"I'm going to go talk to Zell first," she said. "Clear things up, you know?"

"I don't know what happened," Laguna said, "but I'm sorry if it was my fault..."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because I encouraged you?"

"You didn't," she promised. "This is all that woman, I think. Anyway, I've got to run. Don't let Selphie give them anymore cookies, okay? Not even one."

"I'll try, but she's sneaky, that one."

A light rain fell as Rinoa started the car and switched on the headlights. At least Squall hadn't gone far, and she was grateful Laguna did the leg work for her.

The first order of business: find out what the hell happened with Zell. Then, she would bring Squall home, where he belonged.

* * *

Garden stood tall and imposing above the plain like the carapace of some giant beetle, yet without students or movement on the grounds – the utter absence of anything around for miles – the place felt alien and soulless. Seifer stared at the third floor windows and his hackles raised at the eerie silence around them.

He shuddered, and not entirely from the cold. Nostalgia and regret were a potent mix, toxic enough to bring on a slew of long-buried doubts and memories that weren't all entirely bad. Beside him, Ellone unconsciously mirrored his shudder and he glanced her way to offer some encouragement, only to be distracted by how appealing she looked in tactical gear.

"She knows we're here," she said.

"Good," Seifer said. "Then I don't have to figure out how to bust in quietly."

"No need," she said and pointed to the front of the building. "She left the door open. I imagine she's expecting us."

Seifer turned toward the entrance. The lobby side-door stood wide open, the interior black and cavernous. A second shiver passed through him, but this time, it was anticipation. That old hunger for bloodshed crept up on him and his nerve endings sung with heat as a swell of adrenaline bled into his bloodstream. This was something he knew, something he was good at, and he looked forward to watching Ellone take Thalia down.

"Remember everything I taught you?" he asked.

When she said nothing, he turned back. Ellone's face was blank, her eyes glassy and distant and he saw what she saw: Dincht, strung up in an approximation of a spiderweb made of rope and chain Thin slashes of red marred his chest and arms and legs, blood ran in rivulets down his body and dripped from his fingertips. Blank, lifeless blue eyes stared unblinking into the darkness around him.

Seifer muttered a curse and reached out to her, and the vision shifted and reformed and then went black.

"That wasn't real," Ellone said. "She's toying with me."

"She wants you pissed off," Seifer said.

"I'm already pissed off."

Seifer smirked and reached out to adjust the strap of the small medpack slung over her shoulder.

"If there's one thing I've learned over the years, anger is just another tool," he said. "Use it like fuel, but don't ever let it control you."

He brushed a thumb over her chin and bent down to kiss the tip of her nose.

"When the time comes, I'll let you do what you need to do," he said. "Until then, you stay with me, you follow my orders, understand?"

"Yes."

It was the best he could do for a pep talk. Better than getting all sentimental. If he knew Ellone as well as he thought he did, she could read between the lines.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," she said. "Training Center, right?"

"Yep," he said and turned for the door. "Looks like they left some of the wildlife behind, so be on your guard. Grats are no big deal in small groups, but they're a pain in the ass if you get about six or seven of them in a pack. Just watch it and we'll be fine."

Inside, the main corridor was pitch black and it smelled of stagnant water and mold and dust. Reluctant to turn on his flashlight, he used his memory of years spent within these halls and instinct to guide him to the rail next to the interior fountain. Ellone hooked a finger through one of his belt loops and followed until they reached the rail.

He kept one hand on his weapon as they cautiously proceeded through the main hall. All he could hear was the shuffle of their boots against the tiles and a slow drip of water somewhere in the fountain beside them. Without light to guide them, the going was slow, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out shapes and landmarks – the fish fountains to his left, the library to his right.

As they drew closer, screams rose up from somewhere ahead, wails of agony, _pain_ , and behind him Ellone stopped walking as flickers of what awaited them passed along the connection.

_Turn back Elle, go back, leave and she can't hurt you..._

Seifer turned and took hold of Ellone's arm. She trembled and her breath came in short little gasps, as if Dincht's pain was her pain, and though Seifer couldn't feel it, he sensed it was real this time.

"We need to move faster," she said. "She's going to kill him."

The screams came again, from somewhere deeper inside the building. The entrance to the Training Center was just up ahead on the right, and Seifer was sure the sound did not emanate from there.

"Coming from the dorms, I think," Seifer said. "Think she moved him?"

_Elle, it's a trick. Go, before it's too late._

Idiot.

Dincht thought he could sacrifice himself to save Ellone. As if Thalia would be satisfied with killing him, when he wasn't the one she wanted. It was a noble, but stupid gesture. Zell's death would serve no purpose, it wouldn't protect or save anyone.

Either way, there was a decision to make. Venture further in to investigate the dorms or stick with what evidence they were given. Granted, the source of that evidence operated under illusion and fantasy. There was a very real chance Zell was in the dorms or the cafeteria, or even the MD level and nowhere near the Training Center.

"Your call, El," Seifer said as he grasped her shoulder. "Which way?"

"I thought you were in charge," she said.

"You're the one with the gift," he said. "So, where to?"

There was just enough light to see the conflict in her expression and Seifer reached out for her, but something insectile skittered down the side of his neck and he shuddered in disgust as too many legs touched his skin all at once. He slapped at it and something cross between a bee sting and an electrical shock shot down his sciatic nerve and over his skin.

In seconds, the venom flooded into his bloodstream and his limbs grew heavy and his vision blurry. It was difficult to draw a breath. Ellone jumped back away from him as tendrils of flame rolled over his skin, his body instinctively attempting to heal the damage. He saw her face illuminated in the orange-red light – her fear, her strength, her complete and total trust in him, and he knew, he was going to let her down.

* * *

… _.Deling City never really sleeps. Even at three in the morning, the streets bustle with activity under bright, artificial light. Squall, a little drunk from the night's events at Caraway's estate, keeps catching the shimmery glitter of Rinoa's gown under those lights from the corner of his eye. She looks beautiful, and he's proud to have her on his arm, but Squall will delight in removing it once they return to their hotel room after a long and tense evening in her father's company._

" _Your father really hates me," he says as they cut through the park._

" _Well, you did tell him to fuck off," Rinoa says with some amusement. "Maybe I'm just being too sensitive, but I don't think he appreciated that."_

_Caraway likes to throw his weight around, as if being a General gives him the right to talk down to those he feels are beneath him, regardless of position. Squall doesn't believe the man does it consciously, he's just so used to being in charge, and so used to his aggressive tactics, he occasionally needs to be reminded they don't stand on equal ground._

_Squall has retained his position as Commander, and should it ever come to it, he will preside over all three Gardens, whether he likes it or not. It's a huge responsibility, and one he isn't sure he can manage. Caraway isn't wrong in implying Squall is in a position he lacks the experience to hold, but he is wrong to say it in front of dozens of influential politicians who may or may not contract SeeD for future operations._

" _Needed to be said," Squall says. "He forgets I technically out-rank him."_

" _Bet that's why he hates you," Rinoa says._

" _Doubtful."_

" _He sees you as a kid who didn't earn the title."_

_Squall can't disagree, but he's sure Caraway hates him for a different reason._

" _He sees me as the teenage boy who's sleeping with his daughter," Squall said. "Whether or not he thinks I earned the title, he knows I'm good at my job, even if I lack his experience. What he doesn't know is if I'm going to break your heart or not."_

_Rinoa links her arm through his as they merge with the crowd on the sidewalk on the other side of the park and she hums a soft agreement._

" _If I ever had a daughter, I imagine I'd feel the same," he says, "if she were to date someone like me. I know how guys like me can be."_

" _Emotionally repressed perverts?" Rinoa teases._

_He shoots her a look but smiles wryly. "Mostly."_

" _Socially awkward bundles of sexual frustration?" she presses, her eyes glittering with mischief._

_Squall lifts an eyebrow and earns a laugh in return._

" _Before you, sexual frustration was not an issue," he says evenly._

" _Really?"_

_Squall sighs and leans down to press a kiss to her bare shoulder._

" _Less of an issue," he says. "My focus was elsewhere."_

" _So... You never thought of Quistis that way?"_

_He is taken aback by the question and his brow furrows as he tries to sort out her aim in asking. He detects just the barest hint of jealousy in her face. The two are friends, and it has never occurred to Squall that Rinoa might wonder if there was ever a moment when he might entertain the possibility of an attraction to his former instructor._

" _Why would you think that?"_

" _Have you seen her? She's gorgeous..."_

_Squall stops walking to look at his girlfriend and wonders if she's ever really looked at herself. She isn't the same kind of beauty as Quistis, but Squall finds Rinoa so much more alluring. It's more than just beauty that draws him to her, more than the warm brown of her eyes or her pretty face._

" _I prefer brunettes," he says, unaware of how flirtatious it sounds until he's already said it. "Besides, she could kill me."_

_Rinoa is indignant and pokes him in the chest._

" _Hey, I could kill you too!" she says. "Sorceress, remember? Meanie!"_

_Squall hides a smile and tugs her closer. He doesn't care that they're standing on a sidewalk blocking traffic._

" _You didn't take issue with the mention of kids," he says._

" _Way to put the cart before the chocobo, Leonhart" she says with a smile. "But... I'm surprised you brought it up."_

" _I was speaking theoretically," he says. "I just didn't want you to get any crazy ideas."_

" _I'm not the one who brought up theoretical children..."_

Squall bundled himself tighter in the blanket and thought about Ella. Prior, they talked about children from time to time in the theoretical, metaphorical sense, but agreed they would wait until after Squall's planned retirement at age thirty. By then, they would have a nest-egg and solid plans for the future beyond SeeD. They would start a business, and buy a home, and perhaps when they were settled, they would revisit the topic.

They took precautions, but it didn't work out that way.

When they discussed it all those years ago, Squall never imagined he would love Ella beyond reason or comprehension even before she was born, but he did, and he would give his life for hers without question. Strange, how all the things Squall never really thought much about, and never knew he wanted ended up being the very best things in his life.

All his doubts and fears aside, Ari deserved a father who loved him. He deserved everything good in this world, everything Squall never had, the same way Ella deserved it. It was stupid to doubt Rinoa, stupid to believe all those lies Thalia sold him. He knew Rinoa better than that. He knew Zell better than that. Neither would willingly betray him while he was still alive.

He needed to go home and make this right, but he lay there, unable to get up as he watched a trail of misshapen spiders crawl up the wall and into black holes on the ceiling.

"Go away," he said to them. "You're not really here."

As if his words were a magic spell that cut to the truth of things, the malformed arachnids faded into a grayish mist and the amorphous holes on the ceiling collapsed in on themselves.

Squall pushed into a sitting position, stuffed his feet into his shoes and resolved to forget, forgive himself, and move on.

His future depended on it.

* * *

Rinoa banged on Zell's front door for the third time with no answer and wondered if he was avoiding her. She supposed he probably would, after his confrontation with Squall, out of shame for letting anger get in the way of reason. After all, Zell acted first and thought second, consequences be damned and would lapse into silent sulking for a while. She'd seen it a dozen or more times over the years, how hard he was on himself when he reacted without thinking things through.

Whatever his reasons, Rinoa was less sure now it was just Zell being Zell. Something prompted the attack. Or, maybe _someone._

And if it was because of Thalia, then he was not to blame.

"Come on Zell, we need to talk," Rinoa called. "I'm not angry, but I need to talk to you."

When he didn't answer, she tried the door. To her surprise, it was unlocked.

Balamb was a safe town for the most part, but not so safe that people left things and property unlocked, especially when their closest neighbor was a budding thief like Rascal.

Rinoa pushed the door open, but hesitated before she entered the house. All the hair on her arms rose as some deeper instinct warned her to walk away. She took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold anyway as that fear turned to concern for her friend. True, she was angry with him, but not so angry she didn't care if something bad happened to him.

Inside, all the lights were off and it was cold, like he'd left the heater off all night. On the kitchen table, stacks of paperwork and invoices were neatly arranged into piles. The coffee pot was on, and full and the smell of it made her crave a cup.

She switched it off and gazed around, wondering if he was even here.

Dim light bled out from the back room and Rinoa peeked inside, expecting to find him at the work table, deep in concentration as he dismantled some small motor, but he wasn't there. Parts of something Rinoa couldn't identify were scattered across the workspace as if he'd abandoned it in a hurry.

"Zell?" she called as she returned to the main room. "Are you here?"

The only place left to check was upstairs, but she was reluctant to investigate his room. Time hadn't erased how protective he was of his personal spaces, and she doubted he would like it if she snooped while he was gone.

But if he was up there, sick or hurt, Rinoa would never forgive herself for leaving him to fend for himself.

She climbed the stairs, chewing her lip as that dark instinct pulsed in her gut again.

The bathroom light was on, the door closed to just a crack. Rinoa took a deep breath and knocked as she called out for him again. When she got no answer, she pushed the door open a little wider and blinked in confusion at the pool of red on the white tile floor.

Paint. He was redecorating and spilled paint. That was all. Just paint.

It didn't smell like paint. The odor that wafted out was metallic, coppery.

Her heart in her throat, Rinoa stepped inside her gut screaming for her to run, to call for help, even as her mind insisted it was all a misunderstanding. Zell was fine, he just wasn't here, and maybe he'd gone to the garage for some solvent to clean up the mess.

That was it. That had to be it. How else to clean a spill like this?

She avoided the puddle of red on the floor and peeled back the shower curtain, unable to breathe in the coppery tang in the air. Her heart thundered in her chest and then her skin grew cold as she stared at the words scrawled on the tile wall of the shower in dried wine-red paint.

_I'm sorry._

Unwittingly, her eyes were drawn downward to the shape curled on its side in the tub, the bright paint smeared against the white porcelain, and at the pink-tinged water he lay in. A deep gash marred his wrist, exposing severed tendon and muscle, and Rinoa clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back a scream and a sob as what she tried to deny proved true.

* * *

A string of cursing came at Ellone across her link with Seifer as she debated where to go. She sensed pain and fear and frustration, and when he reached for her, his body erupted in flames. She could feel something coursing through him, something that burned him from the inside out in a way that was unlike the fire on his skin.

"Seifer?" she asked. "What is this?"

"Just pick somewhere to go," he said. "I'm fine."

Ellone knew that was a lie. She also knew, Seifer Almasy was a pig-headed idiot who would never, ever willingly admit he wasn't fine.

"Liar," she said. "What happened?"

"I said I'm fine," he snapped.

Ellone watched his face as the flames died out and would swear she saw regret in his expression. The absence of light in the wake of the blaze left her blinded, but she could still sense his fading confidence.

"Where are we going?" he asked gruffly.

"Let's try the Training Center," she said. "It's closest, right?"

Screams came from deeper inside the building again, but Ellone ignored them as they cautiously proceeded into the Training Center. It was pitch black inside and smelled damp and earthy and vaguely like ozone. A chorus of chirps rose up as Ellone switched on her flashlight and something, maybe several somethings, thrashed through the bushes to her left.

"It's just Grats," Seifer said.

She turned the flashlight on him and took in his ashen face and watery eyes. On his neck, a swollen red welt streaked over his throat and down below the collar of his jacket.

"Something bit you," she accused.

"Yeah, yeah, no big deal," he said. "Not like it's the first time."

Annoyed, Ellone turned his face to the left and inspected the wound. Two tiny purple-ish dots were in the center of the welt. If Ellone wasn't mistaken, it looked like a spider bite.

Of course it was, but whether it was Thalia's doing or just a coincidence, Ellone didn't know.

"There's a difference between tough and stupid, you know," she said as she unzipped her medical pack to retrieve an antidote. "Why do you have to be both?"

Seifer snorted, but was unable to come up with a smart retort. That was as telling as the flames he attempted to heal himself with. He blanched, now impossibly pale and his lips tinged blue. He went to his knees, panting as fresh waves of fire coiled around his limbs.

Ellone hastened her search for an antidote, located one and uncapped the bottle. As she bent down to offer it, something collided with her from behind and sent her sprawling, face first in the dirt. The bottle remained in her grasp, but the contents spilled over her fingers and onto the ground. A chirruping, right next to her ear, identified the culprit.

She pressed her flashlight and what remained of the antidote into Seifer's hands and shot to her feet, weapons drawn as the Grat charged her. She jumped out of the way and swiped her blade against its side and was rewarded with an angry, pained screech. It charged again, and Ellone buried her blade in its head, slicing it nearly in half. It howled, shuddered, then collapsed as she withdrew her Talon from its body. The scent of its corpse was foul and she wrinkled her nose against the odor as she scanned the area for more, then turned back to Seifer when she was sure there were no more.

He shined the flashlight on the empty vial and sighed as he turned his eyes to Ellone. He shook his head and tossed the bottle aside.

"Not enough," he muttered.

Ellone crouched down and dug through her bag for another but found all she had were potions, a couple of phoenix downs and one or two other assorted items that were of no use at all.

"There should have been an Esuna in here," she said as she double checked her stock.

"I used it on you," he said. "Remember?"

"Shit."

Seifer laughed softly and grasped her wrist. "It's fine. I'll just keep setting myself on fire."

"Think we should check the infirmary?" Ellone wondered. "There's bound to be something there, right?"

"I doubt there's anything left that we can use," he said. "Xu stripped the place before she left."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know Xu," Seifer said. "She'd do it out of spite."

Ellone sat back on her heels and looked him over. A sheen of sweat on his brow, his skin a pale greenish-gray. What little was left of the antidote did him no good.

The wound on his neck looked worse. The skin around the bite was cherry-red and inflamed. She turned down the collar of his jacket and his shirt and saw the swelling extended down past his collarbone. Definitely worse.

"We need to get you to a doctor," she said. Reluctant though she was to leave Zell to Thalia's torment, Ellone would never forgive herself if they both died. "Come on, I'll help you up."

"Hell no," he said and pushed forward in attempt to stand. "This is your chance to finish this, so forget it."

"Seifer - "

"Shut up," he said. "We're here. But..."

He grunted as he stood shakily and Ellone rose to her feet with him, his hands in hers to help him balance.

"In case the worst happens, there's something I gotta say," he said.

Pinpricks of terror raced over Ellone's skin and she stepped forward, pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head.

"No," she said sternly. "You're not going to say goodbye to me."

"Who said anything about goodbye?"

Ellone wasn't so clueless she didn't already know what he wanted to say, but now was not the time or the place for it. He wasn't going to die, and whatever his reasons, he would regret saying it in a moment of fear and weakness.

"Don't you dare," she said. "Don't you dare say that to me right now."

He laughed softly and gave a helpless gesture.

"Fine," he said. "I don't love you. Not even a little bit."

It was clear he meant exactly the opposite and Ellone almost hit him. If he wasn't wounded, if he hadn't called her out on hitting him before, she would have knocked him flat on his back. For saying it, for being the arrogant idiot he was, and for being nearly impossible not to care about.

"I don't love you either," she said, her voice hoarse and a little choked. "At all."

"Good," he said with a wry, but pained smile. "Now that we've got that cleared up, let's find her, rescue the Chicken-Wuss and get the hell out of here."

* * *

Squall returned to the house to find his pigtailed father made-up like a Galbadian trollop, sipping juice from a tiny plastic tea cup. Ella and Selphie sat at the activity table, their hair tied up in ribbons, and Ari sat on Laguna's knee wearing a pink sun hat, sunglasses and one of Ella's old tutu's. Baffled, Squall stared from the doorway of the living room, unsure of whether he should laugh or run away.

"Daddy!" Ella cried from the table and shot to her feet. She crossed the living room like a bolt of lightning and threw her arms around his legs. "You came home!"

"Of course I did," he said as he dropped a hand to her head. "I said I would, didn't I?"

"But you didn't before," she reminded him. "I was worried you might die again."

Squall scooped her up and ignored the screaming pain in his weak muscles and his damaged leg and hugged her tight. She smelled like cookies and something fruity, and he suspected the pair of adults at the table indulged her more than they should have.

"As long as I'm alive, I'll come home to you, Stella Raine," he promised. "Always."

She poked the scar between his eyes and chewed her lip as she considered that.

"You swear?"

"I swear," he said. "Where's your mom?"

"She went to see Zell," Laguna said. "I have a feeling the poor guy is getting an earful right about now. After that, she was going to give you one, too."

Squall set Ella on her feet and looked his father over. He looked absolutely ridiculous, but Squall felt an unexpected surge of affection for Laguna's lack of shame. Not for the first time, he wondered what his childhood would look like if Laguna was there for it.

"How did she know where I was?"

"No fun in being President if you can't throw your weight around from time to time," Laguna said.

Ari climbed off Laguna's knee and waddled toward Squall, his sunglasses askew and his arms held out, hands opening and closing in the universal toddler gesture that meant he wanted to be held. Squall froze in fear as the boy came closer, but he bit it back and for the first time really allowed himself to look at his son.

There was plenty of Rinoa there – her eyes especially, but now that he paid attention, there really was some of Laguna, too. The long, narrow face, the shape of his chin. But his smile as he looked up at Squall was nearly the same as Ella's, and everyone said Squall and Ella's smiles were nearly identical. For the first time, he saw himself and his stomach clenched with remorse.

"Da!" Ari said. "Got da teepardee!"

"Yeah, son," Laguna said. "Come sit down and join us. Plenty of tea and nail polish for everyone."

Selphie giggled and opened her make-up case. "I'd love to see you with some glitter, Squall."

"Thanks, but I'll pass," he said, his attention still focused on Ari. A small hand tugged on Squall's jeans and the toddler gave a plaintive grunt of impatience.

Squall sank to his knees in front of the boy and opened his arms. Ari giggled as he fell forward against Squall's chest and snuggled into his shoulder, and Squall got choked up as he realized how wrong he was to deny the kid was his. It didn't matter what name was on that birth certificate, and it didn't matter what lies Thalia showed him, the boy belonged to him.

"I'm so, so sorry, kiddo," he whispered as he clutched Ari to his chest. "Forgive me."


	24. Chapter 24

 

* * *

24

* * *

Rinoa reached into the blood-tinged water of the bath and pulled the drain plug. The water was icy cold, the body in it unmoving and pale. The thought of Zell dying this way made her sick, but she pressed her fingers to his neck in hopes of finding a pulse.

His skin was as cold as the water, the texture of it unnatural against her fingertips. Repulsed, Rinoa squeezed her eyelids shut and bit down on her lip as she tried to lift his head and shoulders above the water. When she opened her eyes, Zell stared back at her emptily, the baby-blue of his irises already gone milky.

She took his face in her hands and cast full-life, silently pleading for it to work. Twice more, she cast but Zell remained as he was – _dead._

Gutted and heartbroken, Rinoa fled the room as a thin whine built behind her closed lips. She made it as far as the top step before her legs gave out beneath her and she slid down the wall and sat as her tears spilled over.

Why would he do this? _Why?!_

Her phone rang, startling her to her feet. She answered, her throat too tight to utter more than a choked greeting.

"Rin?"

"Squall?" she squeaked. "I need you. Zell's house, now. It's an emergency."

"What happened?"

"Oh, God, Squall, please come. Or send Laguna if you can't. I can't think..."

There was a long pause, Ari's voice pleading for cookies and Laguna's laughter in the background.

"I'm on my way," he said. "Just stay where you are, okay?"

Rinoa nodded at the phone and wiped her burning eyes. As she dropped a hand to her knees, she noticed the smear of blood on the back of her wrist and she started to cry again.

Was this her fault? Because she couldn't love Zell back? Or was it because he felt so bad about attacking Squall, he couldn't live with himself? Was this for real?

"Rin? You there?"

"I'm here," she said and sniffled. "I'm at the top of the stairs. The front door is unlocked."

"I'll stay on the phone with you until I get there," he said. "I'm going to put you on speaker and you're going to tell me everything that happened, okay?"

"Okay," she said and relayed what she walked in on, babbling at times, incoherent with sobs near the end.

When he didn't say anything in response, Rinoa dropped her head to her knees and wept silently into them.

"I'm parked out front," he said, after an eternity of silence. "I'm hanging up now, but I'll meet you inside."

Rinoa stood as the door opened and she bolted down the stairs to meet him at the bottom. Heedless of his aversion to her touch, she crashed into him and threw her arms around his waist to sob into his chest.

"Shh, It's going to be okay," he murmured.

He didn't hold her back but stood there, stiff and unbending and Rinoa let him go.

"Should we call someone?" she croaked. "We need to call someone."

"Let me take a look first," he said. "Then we'll decide how to handle it."

* * *

Seifer could barely stand. Every breath was agony. The longer the venom stayed in his system, the weaker his body's healing response, and the less damage the flames repaired. He would die if he didn't get an antidote soon. That was fact. If he died, he could be of no help to Ellone, he would die a failure, and that was unacceptable.

At the back of the Training Center, the door to the secret area was wide open and Seifer was bombarded with a hundred different memories about the place. Some good, some bad, and most involving young female cadets willing to engage in sexual misconduct with him after hours. A handful of times, the Disciplinary Committee lured cadets or SeeDs selling contraband items inside on the pretext of buying their illicit goods, then confiscated their wares, beat the holy hell out of them, then turned them in to the administration.

Sometimes, a portion of the contraband made it back to Seifer's dorm room. The alcohol was always worth it, but the random drugs were a mixed bag. Some of them were fun and would have them laughing about nothing for hours, wide awake and climbing the walls at three in the morning. Others left them lethargic and drowsy. Still others were a horror show that Seifer never quite figured out the appeal of.

He had a very clear and distinct memory of the three of them eating green-tinted sugar cubes that twisted reality for a while. He spent that hellish night in a maintenance closet, convinced the apocalypse was nigh as Raijin made shadow puppets on the wall and Fujin spoke a fluent, but unintelligible language from her nest of gym towels behind a mop bucket. At some point, Raijin's shadows became monsters with sharp teeth, and Fujin's words became awful prophecies about the end of days, and Seifer was convinced they were the only survivors. When he came out of his drug-induced trance, he was wrapped in a sheet, wearing a bucket on his head, wielding a plunger as a weapon.

Hyne, what a thing to remember. It was a wonder they'd survived adolescence for all their idiocy, yet some of the best times he could recall were those moments of moronic decisions and childishness with his cohorts. What little joy he got during that time was because of their shenanigans.

Come to think of it, whatever that drug was, it was a lot like what Thalia could do. It all seemed so real at the time, just as the horrors Thalia could present were so close to reality, in the moment it was tough to tell what was happening.

His current condition sucked a big one, and he suspected it wasn't a put-on. He never imagined he would be taken out by a goddamn spider, of all things. It was such a shit way to go, anticlimactic and ridiculous, and he imagined all those people who doubted or hated him laughing their asses off when they heard the news that the mighty Seifer Almasy was felled by something so small.

He kept going, following Ellone's lead, his legs shaky and weak and his torso hunched forward as the muscles of his abdomen clenched and unclenched involuntarily. Whether he liked it or not, she would fight this battle on her own.

A silvery-blue glow spilled from inside the secret area like light reflecting off water, and a soft, girlish laugh came from inside. Ellone cast a glance back at him, her brow furrowed and her eyes gone vacant in a way that Seifer understood meant she was already fighting back in her own way...

… _. "Get thee out, demon! Leave this poor child, leave her and return to hell where you belong!"_

 _The tub is full of ice and water and Thalia's father forces her into it and shoves her head beneath the surface. It burns, burns, burns her skin and she can't breathe, and her hands and feet and all her joints are numb with it, whoever said ice was cold is a liar, a lying liar and she can't_ breathe _._

_It isn't her fault, what she can do. They say she's possessed, that she's evil and has let the demon into her soul. Her father says she invited it by being a bad girl, that she has to pray and fight and make it leave her soul. They don't believe her when she says she didn't do anything wrong, and they call her a sinner and whip her until her back glows red and bleeds._

_But, God it burns and her lungs are on fire and she's going to die if she doesn't get some air..._

Ellone was more sympathetic toward Thalia than Seifer thought made sense, but he couldn't help but feel a little pity for the abused kid she once was. It wasn't right that zealots were allowed to reproduce, or that morally bankrupt souls like Odine and Cid were allowed to deal with children. Seifer himself was no innocent, but at least he had a few morals left intact in spite of his upbringing and his ugly past.

"They never managed to purge me of it," Thalia said from the doorway. "They tried, and they failed."

"I'm sorry," Ellone said. "For what they did to you. For what Odine did."

"I'm not," Thalia said. "They made me what I am. They made me stronger, able to stand on my own two feet. Unlike you, I don't need anyone to protect me."

Thalia cast a glance at Seifer and smirked.

"Though, it looks like your bodyguard has been rendered useless," she said. She slipped her hand into her pocket and withdrew a vial. "I'll make you a deal, Ellone. I'll spare him, if you surrender yourself to me."

"No," Seifer said, the punch of his denial destroyed by the weakness in his voice. "No deal."

Both women ignored him and locked eyes.

"I don't understand what you want with me," Ellone said. "I don't understand your aim."

"My knowledge of a person's past is limited to their fears," Thalia said. "I need their secrets."

"To what end?"

Thalia sighed and shook her head. "Haven't you noticed, there's a war going on?"

Seifer didn't know what the hell she was talking about, unless she meant the one inside her head, the one she only imagined was real. He could understand seeking revenge on those that hurt her, he could understand how a gift like hers might skew reality, and he could even understand being so deluded, the entire world became the enemy. What he didn't get was how she could buy her own lies.

As twisted as Ultimecia was, she knew the score. She knew how best to manipulate Seifer's grandiose dreams to suit her own purposes, but she never fell victim to her own bullshit. She too was filled with hate, but she had her reasons. Perhaps they were even good ones, but she was never quite as mad as everyone believed. At heart, Ultimecia was a pragmatist with a cruel streak a mile wide, and in the end, all she wanted was to change her own fate, to prevent the things that drove her to fight back from happening in the first place.

Ellone sent him a surprised and sympathetic glance over her shoulder, as if she never realized that Ultimecia's motives were grounded in self-preservation rather than madness. There was definitely an element of that, a part of her that got lost along the way, but there was more to it than Seifer ever let on, and perhaps the only person in the world who could understand, even a little, was Rinoa.

As venom surged anew in Seifer's blood, his heart muscle fluttered and pain flared through his limbs, he understood more than he could say. If not for Rinoa, or Raijin and Fujin, Seifer himself might not have known what it meant to care for or love someone else. Garden and his training could have easily killed the part of him that got it. It could have turned him into a monster without conscience or remorse, just as Thalia's loveless childhood and the torture she endured turned her savage and cruel.

This woman was a walking tragedy. She was what Ellone could have become without parents that loved her so much, they died protecting her, or without Raine and Laguna to give her some semblance of a carefree childhood, and even Cid and Edea, who took up the role of protectors when there was no one else left. Ellone was loved, she knew what it meant, and what it felt like for someone to care about her well-being and her future. Thalia didn't, and she never even got a chance.

Seifer slipped to his knees as his legs buckled beneath him, the flames on his skin too weak to do more than keep him from slipping into unconsciousness. Slowly, but surely, the venom was killing him.

_Do you trust me, Seifer?_

The answer was yes, yes, he trusted Ellone more than he trusted anyone in this world. She knew him all the way through. She knew every part of him, the good and the bad, and all the things he could never bring himself to admit out loud, even to his closest friends.

"Spare him, let him go, and you have a deal," Ellone said.

"Elle, _no_ ," he ground out. "It's a goddamn trick, just like everything else."

_Trust me, Seifer. Trust me._

* * *

Squall wasn't sure he'd ever felt another person shake as hard as Rinoa shook against his chest. Whatever was or wasn't in that bathroom upstairs, it terrified her to the point of incoherence, and for Rinoa, who lived through a war and saw death on almost a daily basis in that time, it said something about what Squall might walk into.

He lifted his arms and held her. Pending tragedy or not, it felt better than he remembered. Whatever he feared before, it was gone.

Gently, he disengaged Rinoa from his chest and held her at arm's length. That long-forgotten but still familiar surge of affection bubbled over as he took her in and remembered how much and how hard they loved each other once. It was complicated, and not always easy, but there was never a time when he pictured a future without her until Thalia.

Squall reached out and brushed the tears from her cheeks, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he braced himself for the task at hand. Death had long been a part of his world, but rarely did it involve the possible death of a friend. If this proved real, he would be as heartbroken as Rinoa looked now. Especially given the ugliness of their last encounter.

"Stay here," he said. "I'll go take a look."

Rinoa bit her lip and nodded as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

Carefully, he climbed the stairs, using the wall for balance. His dread grew by leaps and bounds the closer he got to the top. On the landing, he turned for the open bathroom door and stepped inside, prepared for the gory scene Rinoa described.

He was not surprised when he found the small room spotless. White tile gleamed in the vanity light as if very recently bleached and scrubbed. The chrome fixtures were all polished to a bright sheen and the sink was absent debris or toothpaste residue.

The shower curtain stood open, and Squall peered into the tub to find it was just as clean as the rest. Nothing marred the porcelain, the tiles and grout bleached a stark white that was almost blinding.

Squall breathed a sigh of relief and wiped a hand over his face.

Thalia inflicted her horrors as she saw fit, and without reason. Maybe this was just another way to get to him, to deepen the rift between them, or maybe Thalia wanted Rinoa. Squall couldn't even fathom the hellish world she could create if she were in possession of the powers of Sorcery. She was close enough to it already.

Either way, as long as the woman was alive, their safety was no guarantee.

As he turned for he door, he caught sight of Thalia in the mirror, her grin broad and mean. Without thinking, Squall picked up the metal toothbrush holder from the side of the sink and bashed it against the glass. The mirror cracked, splintering into a web of jagged lines and Squall sneered at her broken reflection until it faded.

At the top of the stairs, he called out to Rinoa. Her fearful face appeared at the bottom, tears still wet on her cheeks.

"There's nothing up here," he said. "He's not here."

"What? _No._ I know what I saw."

"Come see for yourself."

Rinoa charged up the stairs, her frustrated confusion understandable. After all, Squall lived with Thalia's games for two years. He knew how real her lies could seem, even to a healthy mind.

She brushed past him and into the bathroom. Squall watched her take it in, and when she turned back to him, she'd already put the pieces together.

"It wasn't real," she said stiffly. "It was a lie."

Squall nodded.

"Zell's okay? He's not dead?"

"He could still be in danger, but she might just be playing with us," Squall said. "Message him. See if he responds."

Rinoa punched in a quick text, chewing her lip in a way that stole Squall's focus, lust and love a warm and welcome beat in his abdomen. He still feared her touch in a deeply instinctive and self-preservative way, but Hyne, how he wanted to touch _her_ , to press her against the nearest wall and kiss her with mindless, reckless abandon, to soak up her warmth and her love until all else was forgotten.

Her phone chimed a few seconds later and she looked at the screen.

" _A little tied up at the moment_ ," she read aloud. " _No worries_."

She sagged against the door frame, eyes closed, a hand pressed to her stomach, and took a couple of deep, calming breaths. Squall shuffled across the hall to her side and stroked her shoulder, voluntarily initiating contact in spite of his deeply ingrained fear that she would fade to nothing or reveal herself to be someone else.

"You really do love him, don't you?" Squall asked.

"Of course I do. He's my best friend. He was _your_ best friend," she said as she opened her eyes and met his gaze. "I don't want to fight with you about it."

"I'm not picking a fight," he said. "I meant to say, I get it."

"Do you?" she wondered.

"I was wrong," he said. "To doubt either of you. I know how hard it must have been."

Rinoa's defensive expression softened and she relaxed into his touch, furthering his need for her. This was not the place for it, and there was still a part of him that held him back – all those demons and false memories and things left unsaid – he had to deal with those first.

"I'm glad he loves you enough to be there when I couldn't be," Squall said. "I'm grateful."

"What about Ari?"

Squall toyed with a strand of her hair, amazed as always by how soft it was.

"How could he not be mine?" Squall asked quietly. He smiled a closed lipped smile and brushed away the dampness on her cheeks with his thumbs. "There's too much of my dad there. I know for a fact he's not Ari's father."

Rinoa gaped at him, her brow furrowed. She reached up to clasp the chain around her neck and Squall noticed she wore her wedding band for the first time since he'd come home.

"Definitely not," she said. "What changed your mind?"

"I just realized almost everything she made me believe was a lie," he said. "The things that were true were the things I believed the least."

Squall slipped into the space across from her and leaned back against the door frame so that he could look at her full on.

"Ari was one of those things," he said. "I thought she said it because I was ready to die... and she'd already taken away all the things worth fighting for..."

Rinoa teared up and laid a hand against his chest.

"So what I saw, that was what she did to you?"

"It was like that," he said, "and worse. It was... sometimes I really believed her. That you were there, in her place. That Zell was better for you than I ever could be... That you never really loved me to begin with."

"Is that why you were so afraid of me?" she asked. "When you came home? Because she pretended to be me?"

"That was part of it," he said and dropped his gaze to the floor. "The other part was shame, that you wouldn't want me like this..."

Rinoa crossed the short distance between them and fit herself against his chest. Squall didn't resist this time and looped an arm around her waist.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," she said. "You're alive, and that's all that matters to me."

He thought of how many times he wished to die, and how close he was to death when Seifer and Ellone came to his rescue. At the time, he believed death was the better option, the easiest way out.

He was glad he didn't get his wish.

* * *

_It's not you I don't trust, Elle._

Ellone got where Seifer was coming from. There was a good chance there was nothing in that vial, or that it contained more poison, a strong possibility Thalia would betray them. Ellone was aware of how many ways Thalia could screw them over, but best to let her think Ellone would go willingly to save Seifer.

He'd taught her well. Find an enemy's weakness and exploit it. Thalia's was her overconfidence, her belief that she was some kind of untouchable deity when she was just as mortal as Ellone. If she was cut, she would bleed, just like everyone else.

"Did you know your power grows stronger the more you use it?" Thalia asked conversationally. "You discover things you never thought you could do. Just imagine all the things you could have accomplished if you weren't so afraid of yourself."

She wasn't wrong. For most of her life, Ellone refrained from voluntarily using her gift unless there was a reason for it. She feared what she would find in the memories of others, she didn't want to carry the burdens of anyone's past hurts or secrets if she didn't have to. Now that she used it regularly, it was easier to connect, easier to invade a mind, and even possible to alter perception, at least, in Thalia's case. She had to wonder, if she'd embraced it sooner, made peace with what she was, could she actually change the past? Rewind and erase and reset all the bad things that happened to the people she loved?

Would she be able to make Squall forget? Or erase Raine's death from Laguna's conscience? Or save Seifer from the crooked path of Knighthood?

_The past is the past, Elle. You can't go back. No what ifs, no regrets._

Behind her, Seifer struggled. Ellone could feel the poison killing him by degrees. Whether or not Thalia held the cure, he needed help, and soon.

"I surrender," Ellone said. "Just spare him."

"Not so fast," Thalia said. "I want to make sure you won't double cross me first."

"You have my word."

"Not good enough," she said and called out to someone inside the secret area. "I'm sure you understand."

Two men in cargo pants emerged from the room, weapons drawn. Ellone cast her own weapons aside and held up her hands to show she would go quietly. They seized her by the elbows and tugged her forward. Ellone didn't resist.

She cast a look at Seifer as two more emerged.

_Don't fight them, Seifer. Play along, even if you don't want to._

_You better know what you're doing, Elle._

Ellone didn't. She didn't have a plan, only a vague idea and a prayer. Not that a plan would help. There was no point in plotting against an unpredictable antagonist. Thalia was as likely to make conversation as she was to turn into Raine and peel the skin from Ellone's back.

_So we're winging it? Hyne almighty. I may have trained you too well._

_No such thing. Suck it up and don't die on me, okay? You promised me a vacation and I fully intend to see you live long enough to make good on it._

Seifer laughed softly, even as the two men lifted him to his feet. He sagged between them, his legs too weak to support his own weight, but his eyes were fixed on Ellone, full of trust and confidence and respect.

Inside the secret area, a set of chains dangled from the ceiling and Ellone cringed at the thought of being restrained, but she passively allowed them to clamp the metal bracelets around her wrists. Across the room, on his knees with a gun to his head, Seifer watched. Ellone knew him well enough to read the cold anger behind his hardened expression.

_Can you fight, Seifer?_

_I can sure as hell try._

_Wait for my signal. When I say go, take those two out, understand?_

The corner of Seifer's mouth twitched into a half-smirk.

Her arms were strung up above her as Thalia keyed something into a phone, distracted by the task. As Ellone's feet lifted off the ground she closed her eyes and willed herself calm. No amount of training compared to a real fight, and she needed a clear head if she was going to pull it off. Seifer and Zell's lives depended on her.

_Now._

She wrapped her hands around the chains and lifted her feet, kicking out at the soldiers. Her boot caught one square in the face, the other in the chest. Both reeled away from her, the first bleeding heavily from his nose, the other sent to his knees as he tried to recover his breath. Across the room, Seifer shot to his feet and elbowed one of his captors in the throat, seized the back of his head and brought it down against his raised knee. The man went down as the other backed away, fearful of the flames on Seifer's skin, but lifted his rifle and pulled the trigger.

Seifer doubled over as a pair of bullets tore through his side. He gave a muffled grunt of pain, and Ellone felt it like a lick of fire across her abdomen. The man fired again, missed, and Seifer, in spite of this new wound and his weakness, tackled him to the ground.

The soldier's clothing caught fire, and Ellone smelled burning hair and ozone. His screams mingled with Seifer's pain and resonated all the way to her core.

When Seifer rose to his feet, his legs visibly trembling, Ellone breathed a sigh of relief as she sensed the bullets pushing themselves out of his body as his flesh knitted itself back together. The poison still coursed through his veins, would still take him down if there was no way to combat the venom in his body.

Ellone could do nothing about the chains or the cuffs around her wrists. Still, she used little momentum to swing back and deliver another hard kick to both of her captors, this time incapacitating them. From the doorway, a furious Thalia shrieked as Seifer, still ablaze, turned for her.

The walls and ground began to shimmer as though they were covered in a million tiny diamonds, the spangles shifting in the weak light like ocean waves in moonlight. Ellone shivered when she realized what it was – _insects_ , and thousands upon thousands of them, fleeing or advancing, she wasn't sure which until hundreds of carrion beetles scurried over the fallen soldiers, leaving them looking less like men than a dark, shifting mass of darkness and refracted light.

_Forget her, find the key and unlock me._

Seifer hesitated, started through the doorway after the fleeing Thalia, then turned back, hunched at the waist and in obvious pain. He staggered toward her, slipped to a knee, paused to catch his breath and rose again, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

Ellone's eyes grew misty, but she fought it. Now was not the time to grieve, not while his heart still beat and not while there was still a battle to fight.

_Don't start plannin' my funeral, El. I'm not dead yet._

She waited while he brushed away a hoard of beetles from the first fallen soldier and dug through the man's pockets. He produced a set of keys and stood, his hand shaking hard enough to rattle them on their ring as he pressed them into her grasp.

"You're gonna have to unlock yourself," he said.

The flames surrounding his body died out as he placed his hands around her waist to steady her, and his head dropped to her shoulder as though he could no longer hold it up. His breath was heavy and hot against her neck, his skin damp.

He was fading fast. Ellone could _feel_ it.

The lock on her left wrist opened and she fumbled with the keys, nearly dropped them, but unlocked the second in time to catch Seifer as he slumped against her. His knees buckled and his body went leaden in her arms. She eased him to the ground and knelt beside him, afraid he'd lost consciousness, but his eyes were open, wild, and bright with pain.

He cupped her cheek with a gloved palm as Ellone choked back a sob.

"Don't worry about me, El," he said thickly, "just finish this."

"Seifer - "

"Go, Elle," he said.

_Seifer..._

"Go. I'll be right there with you."

If she delayed any longer, Thalia might flee and Seifer would die. She cast one last look at him as she stood, and in his gaze was more affection than she deserved.

"You can do this," he promised and offered a weak smile. "You're pretty badass for someone with such a puny head. Now stop worrying and go do what you came to do."

* * *

A false twilight fell on Balamb as the light rain became a deluge, and Squall shivered as he followed Rinoa up the sidewalk to the house. As she mounted the steps to the porch, she cast a glance back at him, her smile full of warmth. Squall forgot all about the cold as the nagging fear that lingered on the edges of all his thoughts dissipated. Not since before he left home for a simple training mission two years and some months ago did he feel so at peace.

"What?" she asked. "Are you okay? Do you need help up the steps?"

Squall shook his head, but his heart thumped out a hard back-beat at the thought of what came next.

He would tell her everything, everything he remembered, everything he endured, every lie he believed. He suffered no illusions that talking about it would magically heal him or chase away his doubts, but it was a start. Rinoa deserved to know the truth, as hard as it would be to tell it. He saw it now when he didn't see it before – he was not the only victim, not the only one who suffered, and there was no need for a therapist when the people who could heal him were right here, under this roof.

Inside, warmth chased away the chill and the foyer smelled of mulling spices. Selphie called out a greeting from the kitchen and offered steaming mugs of mulled wine as they peeled away coats and layers. Both kids clambered in to meet them. Ella talking a mile a minute. Ari, sleepy-eyed, his stuffed turtle clutched against his side. His father, face wiped clean of glitter and lipstick, but the tiara still perched on his head, trailed in behind them, soft-eyed and all smiles.

Ari latched onto Squall's leg and leaned his head against Squall's knee, yawned and smacked his lips.

"Somebody's worn out," Laguna said. "I should probably put him down."

"Too early," Rinoa said. "Let him sleep now, and he'll be awake at two in the morning, ready to go again."

Squall scooped Ari up into his arms. The boy heaved a dramatic sigh and snuggled into Squall's shoulder, one little hand curled into a fist against Squall's neck. Across the foyer, Rinoa's pressed a hand to her lips and blinked back tears.

"Seve got coogies," Ari said and punctuated it with a yawn.

"How many did you give him?" Rinoa demanded.

"I dunno, six or seven?"

"Selphie!"

"What's the fun of being the fun Aunt if I can't spoil them?" Selphie asked. "It's in the job description."

Four message chimes went off at once, and they exchanged glances as they fumbled for their respective phones. Squall shifted Ari up on his hip and retrieved his from his pocket to see a message from Ellone.

Squall blinked at the words on the screen, a sick feeling in his stomach.

_Seifer needs help, ASAP. Garden Training Center. Bring antidotes._

What the hell were they doing there?

Laguna's troubled expression told Squall everything he needed to know. Ellone and Seifer were still hunting.

Maybe, they'd found her.

If they had, things weren't going well.

Seifer was capable of handling it to a point, but he didn't trust that Ellone was safe in his company. Not because Seifer was Seifer, but because of what Thalia could do to the both of them.

What she _would_ do to them.

"I'll take care of it," Laguna said. "No need for anyone else to get involved."

"What's going on?" Rinoa asked. "What is this? Is this about _her_?"

Laguna reached for his coat, but Squall reached out and stopped him.

"I'll take care of it," Laguna said again. "I won't lose you again."

"I'm going with you," Squall insisted.

"No," Laguna said. "You stay here. Take care of your family."

"Ellone is my family too," Squall said.

Seifer, too. In his own way. They spilled each other's blood, left scars on each other's skin. They _were_ family.

"It's not a debate, son," Laguna said. "You. Stay. _Here_."

Rinoa moved to Squall's side and took Ari from his arms. The boy yawned again, mumbled something into Rinoa's neck. Squall locked eyes with his father as Laguna's mulish, hard-headed side made a rare appearance.

"I'll go with you," Rinoa said.

"No," Laguna said. "Way too big a risk."

"I'm a _Sorceress_ ," Rinoa said. "What can she do to me?"

"What she did to me," Squall said. "Except, she'll find a way to take you out."

"She won't."

"She _will_ ," Squall said and laid his palms against the back of her elbows. "Remember what you saw earlier? How real that felt?"

Rinoa nodded, her frown deepening.

"She can, and she will, Rin, and I don't want you anywhere near her."

Rinoa pulled away as Laguna slipped his arms into his jacket.

"You can't go alone," Rinoa said. "Laguna, please -"

"I'm not," Laguna said. "Selphie? How would you like the chance to blow something up?"

* * *

Screaming pain in his shoulders, his arms, his back. The sting of shallow wounds on his chest, the throb of his pulse in his legs.

_Not dead._

Not yet.

Zell blinked the fog from his eyes, struggled to lift his head and gazed around the room. A dull gray light bathed the space in a dreary, dim glow and Zell picked out a desk, book cases, floor to ceiling draperies, the gleam of wood parquetry floor, and the glass roof above.

On the floor directly across from him lay a woman, unconscious and bound, on her side, a pool of blood beneath her body. It was too dark to identify who she was, and she lay too still to be sure if she was alive or not. He hissed a greeting, but she remained as she was.

The last time Zell was this afraid, they stood just outside the doors of Ultimecia's throne room, but even then, none of them were as helpless as he was now.

He tested his chains and found them secure, the ache in his shoulder joints too intense to try their limits. The chill in the air seeped into his bones and the scent of blood and something earthy and purely animal was strong and cloying in his nostrils.

He wasn't alone.

She came out of the shadows, the soft blue glow of a phone screen illuminating her face. Zell froze as she moved closer and watched her transform.

Rinoa, without the trademark warmth in her eyes. Rinoa, bathed in cold light, her face hollow and skeletal. _Rinoa_ , her lips wet with blood.

Zell shut his eyes against it and shook his head. The chains above him rattled and a shock of pain wrenched his shoulders as something sharp and cold caressed his side and cut deep into his skin. Blood spilled down his side, warm and almost itchy, his muscles clenched and his body bowed away from the blade's edge.

"She's coming to save you," Thalia said. "Does that give you hope?"

Too much hope, but worry too. Ellone was so small, so inexperienced. Even with Seifer at her side, too many things could happen.

He opened his eyes and peered at the impostor, unconvinced no matter how much she looked like Rinoa.

"You're not her," Zell said, his words slurred, his voice weak. "You're a liar."

"Would you like me to show you something true?"

She nudged the woman on the floor with the toe of her boot and the woman's face rolled toward Zell, her eyes, even in darkness, glassy, unblinking.

_Dead._

Zell recognized her now. A head full of flaming red hair. She flirted with him every time he stopped by the bookstore.

"Don't care," Zell said, throat tight. His teeth chattered and he locked his jaw against it. "Won't believe you anyway."

She tossed the phone aside and stepped closer as skinny appendages extended outward from her torso, long and spindly and shiny even in the weak light. Her body swelled, reformed, until she resembled a spider more than a woman – rounded abdomen, pincer like mandibles instead of a jaw, and seven new sets of eyes.

Each pair belonged to someone he cared about.

Rinoa, Squall, Ella, Ari, Quistis, Irvine, Selphie, Ellone.

They were all there in her distorted face. They all blinked at the same time.

Horrified, Zell looked away from what was surely a lie. He nearly vomited when she touched his chest and it didn't feel like a human touch, not human fingers, nothing warm-blooded or _alive_ it. His stomach turned, bile rose in his throat, and he whined as that earthy, animal scent overwhelmed him.

Beyond her, beyond whatever she'd become, things moved in the darkness, shiny, molten, black, the whisper of millions of scuttling legs an ill omen, a promise of worse things to come.

"Just kill me," Zell said.

"Not yet. I want her to hear your screams," Thalia said. "I want her to come to me. She'll trade her life for yours. If you're lucky, you'll sleep in your own bed tonight."

Sleep? Zell didn't think he'd ever sleep again. Not without night terrors. Not without expecting the shadows to grow teeth.

"Seifer won't let you hurt her," Zell said tiredly.

"He won't have a choice," Thalia said. "He's as good as dead."


	25. Chapter 25

* * *

25

* * *

Rinoa paced the living room as Squall watched from the couch. In his lap, a sleepy-eyed Ari yawned hugely and nuzzled his cheek against Squall's chest.

"Sit down," Squall said. "They'll be fine."

She paused and turned toward him.

"Four against one is fair odds, isn't it?" she asked. "They can take her, right?"

Squall couldn't honestly answer in the affirmative. Even with their combined experience, it might not be enough, given what Thalia could do. And if Seifer was injured, their odds of a victory were greatly diminished. Squall didn't share his concern but offered his hand instead.

Rinoa slipped onto the couch beside him and her fingers twined through his.

"I want her dead," she whispered. "I want to make sure she can't hurt us or our friends ever again."

"I know."

She could not fight this fight, no matter how badly she wished to avenge him. What he might lose was far greater than what she would gain. No argument she could come up with could persuade him or change his mind on that point. He needed her, here, safe and away from the danger.

"Where's Ella?" he asked.

"Finishing her homework," Rinoa said. "School tomorrow."

Squall nodded and shifted the drowsy toddler in his lap. Ari babbled something about his turtle and burrowed his face deeper into Squall's shirt. Squall clasped a hand against the boy's head and steadied him as Rinoa smoothed down unruly curls, so like the ones Rinoa's father hid beneath a layer of pomade.

"Why don't you put him to bed?" Rinoa suggested.

"Thought you said it was too early."

"He's going to fall asleep, one way or another," she said. "No point in trying to make him stay up. I don't know what Laguna does to wear him out like this, but it happens every time..."

"I can only imagine," Squall said as he rose to his feet.

"Want me to carry him up for you?"

"I'll manage," Squall said. "He's not that heavy."

Rinoa waited at the bottom of the steps and watched Squall ascend. He hugged the wall, cane in one hand, his son braced against his chest with the other. The going was slow, but he made it to the top without incident and with an unexpected sense of accomplishment. A month ago, climbing the stairs on his own was a daunting and exhausting task, but he never thought he would feel pride about being able to carry his boy up the stairs.

Squall didn't immediately put Ari in his crib, but eased himself into the rocking chair by the window and held his son. In the fading daylight, he examined the tiny, pudgy fist balled against his chest and breathed in the scent of Ari's hair.

He missed so many things in the time he was gone. He couldn't afford to miss anything else – not the big things and not the mundane, everyday things either. Those small moments were just as important as the monumental ones and Squall vowed he would not miss another.

Ella appeared in the doorway and hesitated there, one hand against the frame and back-lit by the hall light so that her hair showed hints of copper and gold. Squall held out an hand to her and she drifted into the room, to his side and slipped into his lap. Ari smiled at her and wrapped his little fingers around hers.

"Lella," he murmured. "Lubbew"

"Love you, too, Lil Dude," she said and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

Ari's giggle turned into a yawn and an unintelligible mutter as Ella laid her head against Squall's shoulder.

For all he'd endured, and for all he missed, he was lucky to be here, alive and healthy enough to hold his kids. It didn't matter that there was no job to go back to, or that he would never be able to fight the way he did before, or even that his body and mind would always bear scars of the last two years. Maybe, he would suffer from nightmares and anxiety for years to come, from flashbacks and moments where trauma undermined his confidence, but those things were fleeting; they would pass. _This_ was what was real, and it was the only thing that mattered.

"Get all your homework done, Stella Raine?"

"Yep," she said. "I had to write a story for Language Arts."

"What was it about?"

"Being a kid and nobody tells you stuff."

Squall nuzzled the top of her head and kissed the part in her hair.

"I wish I could tell you that goes away when you get older, but it doesn't," Squall said. "Sometimes, you get left out of things, miss important details... or sometimes things look like something they're not..."

"I don't like getting left out," she said. "Just because I'm a kid doesn't mean I'm dumb."

"Is there something you want to ask me, kiddo?"

"Just... Something bad's happening, isn't it?" she asked. "Like, with that lady who hurt you? And Aunt Ellone? They're fighting, aren't they?"

Squall almost lied. He almost brushed her concerns aside and told her everything was fine, not to worry, but that would be an insult to her intelligence. She was smart enough and old enough to figure out things were off, and she would know he was not telling the truth.

"Yeah," he said, "but I don't know if it's bad or not."

"What if she hurts Grandpa or Aunt Selphie?"

Squall smoothed back her hair and tightened his grip. Ella's fears were not unfounded. There was a very real possibility that this would not end well for someone they all cared about.

"Did you know that your Grandpa Laguna used to be a soldier?" Squall asked. "And your Aunt Selphie was a SeeD."

"So were you and you got hurt."

"You're right," he said. "But, I was alone, with no one there to back me up. Sometimes, it's too hard to fight all by yourself. You need other people to help you..."

He trailed off, let his chin rest against the top of her head and closed his eyes to muster the will to keep talking. Ella needed to hear this.

"That was one of the hardest things for me to learn when I was young," he said, "that sometimes, the only way to get through it is to rely on other people, that you can't always do everything on your own. Took me a long time to figure that out."

Ella brushed her fingers over the stump of his pinkie finger and he felt her frown against his collarbone.

"The world can be a really lonely place, Ella," he said. "Even when you're surrounded by people who care about you."

"Yeah, but nobody wants a kid hanging around all the time," she said. "Sometimes it's like we're invisible. The grown-ups act like we don't know anything."

"I'll always want you around," he promised. "In fact, you were the thing I missed most when I was gone."

"Not Mom?"

"I missed her too," Squall said. "Being away from you two hurt me more than anything else."

Hyne, that was the truth. Even after all the lies and illusions, the despair and the pain, deep down, there was never a time when he didn't miss his family or hurt because he believed he would never go home to them alive. Even when he thought he'd been betrayed.

"Don't ever be afraid to ask me questions, kiddo. I promise I'll always tell you the truth."

"Okay," she said and squeezed the end of his mangled pinkie. "Promise I will."

"Good. Anything else you want to know?"

"Well..."

"What is it?"

"I thought your finger would grow back," she said.

Squall suppressed a smile. "Why would you think that?"

"I dunno, but like, when a lizard loses the end of its tail, it grows back, so I thought maybe your finger would too?"

Squall couldn't help his laughter.

"Why's that funny?" she demanded.

"Because I'm not a lizard," he said with a smile. "Though some people might disagree."

"What's _that_ mean?"

"Reptiles are cold-blooded animals, so... Sometimes, when I wasn't so nice to people at work, they made comparisons."

"Why weren't you nice to people?"

"Well, when you're the boss, sometimes you have to be tough, even if you don't want to be," Squall said. "If someone doesn't follow directions or does something dumb, that might cause someone else to get hurt. Kind of like when your mom gets onto you when you jump on the bed."

"Oh," she said. "So it's not gonna grow back, huh?"

"No," Squall said with a smile, "but it would be pretty cool if it did."

"Maybe I should write my story about that," she said thoughtfully. "The one I have is kinda sad."

"Nothing wrong with a sad story," he said. "But maybe you can write one about _limb-regenerating lizard-Dad_ for fun. I think I'd really like to read that."

Ella giggled at that and poked Ari in the shoulder. Ari snorted but didn't budge.

"I think he's out," she said.

Squall peered down at his son, who snored softly against his chest. Long, dark lashes lay against his cheeks.

"I think you're right," Squall agreed. He checked the time. "Why don't you go start getting ready for bed while I put him down and I'll come tuck you in in a little while."

Ella groaned, but she slid out of his lap and headed for the door. She paused, turned around, a question clearly written all over her face.

"Dad?"

"What, sweetie?"

"Do you think... Would you call me Stella from now on? It sounds more grown-up."

_But I don't want you to grow up... I'm not ready for that, I missed too much..._

"It is your name, Stella Raine," he said.

"You made a rhyme," she said with a grin. "You're a poet and you didn't even know it!"

"Go get ready for bed, silly-head."

He watched her go, then eased Ari into the crib and covered him with a pale green crocheted blanket. Ari sighed heavily, grunted and smacked his lips as he settled in and Squall stood there, mesmerized. He laid a hand against Ari's back, and his throat tightened.

How could he ever deny the boy anything?

When he stepped away from the crib, the distorted shadow of a spider spilled across the carpet, its legs working as it spun its silken trap. He squeezed his eyes shut, counted backward from ten, and when he opened them, it was gone.

Illusion or not, it spooked him. He had no idea what his friends and family might face when they confronted Thalia. Their safety was no guarantee, and his longing to join the fight became an insatiable itch that he was forced to ignore. He wasn't in any shape to fight, his body still on the mend and his leg and wrists permanently lame. There was little he could do to help, and his place now was _here_ , with his family. His days of fighting were done.

He checked Ari one last time and fled the room to say a quick goodnight to Ella and see her safely tucked in before he turned out the light.

"Love you, dad," she said.

"Love you too, kiddo," he said. "For ever and ever."

"And ever?"

"Always," he said and kissed her forehead.

He switched off the light and noticed she no longer slept with a night light.

She was growing up so fast. The days when she wouldn't need him anymore were on the horizon, and he couldn't get back the years he'd missed. All he could do now was make the best of the years between then and now and give her reasons to look back on her childhood with fondness and love.

He would give Ari the same. Come hell or high water, neither would want for his time, attention, or his devotion.

He closed the door to a crack and trekked down the stairs to find Rinoa preparing to leave. One arm was already stuffed inside her jacket, car keys in hand. Her Shooting Star was laid out on the console table in the foyer.

"Did they ask for back up?" he asked. She fumbled the keys and dropped them. They hit the tile with a clatter as she spun on him. "Or are you planning to sneak out?"

" _...sneak_ ," she said.

"Unless they ask us to come, _we stay here._ "

"I can't do _nothing_."

Squall moved closer, into her personal space, tugged the jacked off her arm and tossed it aside. It hit the floor with a soft thud.

She would never learn, would she? That passionate, impulsive instinct that called her to act before she thought the action through was one of the things Squall loved most about her. She possessed courage in spades, she had a warrior's heart, and she was never one to stand aside when others were in trouble, all too often to her own detriment. It wasn't his way of doing things, and it never would be, but he could never accuse her of cowardice. Foolishness, yes. A lack of courage, no.

"What happens every time you go off all half-cocked because you feel like you have to prove yourself, Rin?"

She pursed her lips and looked away.

"I'm not trying to prove anything. I just want to help."

"If something happens, I can't save you this time."

He held out his damaged wrists for her to inspect. She glanced at them and turned her face away from the pale bands of scar tissue.

"It wouldn't be a question if the roles were reversed," she said. "You'd kill her and not even bat an eye."

That much was true, and he wouldn't deny it, but he couldn't let her leave, no matter how much she wanted Thalia dead.

"I know," he said softly. "But, Rin... You have to take a knee on this one. This isn't worth the risk."

"I know what I'm up against."

"You don't."

"You couldn't stop me if I decided to go anyway."

"No," he agreed, "but I'd sure as hell try."

"Please," she whispered. "Let me do this for you. _Please_."

Squall took her face between his palms and shook his head. He would always be reminded of Thalia in the scars she left behind. That was no escaping it, whether or not she lived.

There was nowhere to go now but forward, and that meant leaving all of it in the past where it belonged. He could not live with the fear and doubt she instilled, nor could he allow it to hold him back any longer. It was over, the fight was not in their hands. All he could do now was trust that by nightfall, the threat would be eliminated.

"I don't want revenge, Rin," he whispered back. "I don't need it."

"Then what do you need?"

Squall thought of Ella, asking him to call her Stella, and of Ari's soft, warm weight against his chest. About Rinoa, and the way her eyes went squinty when she smiled. Her fire and spirit. The way Ellone, in spite of everything, was the happiest he could remember seeing her. How Laguna stepped up when Squall needed him most. Seifer and his relentless, unapologetic way of forcing him to get up and keep going.

Everything he needed was right here.

"Just this."

"But -"

"I don't care if she lives or dies. I don't care," he said, and he meant it. "This isn't our fight."

Something about the way she looked at him pushed him past the point of no return. The knot that lingered in his throat since he lay Ari down in his crib swelled to the size of a small planet until he could barely swallow. He struggled to hold back, to keep it inside, but a harsh, painful sob burst out of him and he almost choked on it.

It all came out at once, too many emotions to make sense of – regret, panic, sorrow, anger, bitterness, pain, fear, _love_ – they all blended together as Rinoa's arms encircled his waist. At her touch, he collapsed in on himself, reduced to a sobbing child and unable to stop himself from going to pieces.

Sounds he'd never made in his life bubbled up past his lips as he gave in to it and slipped to his knees. Rinoa guided his head to her shoulder as she joined him on the floor. She stroked his back and neck and too-short hair and murmured things he didn't hear through all the noise in his head.

He'd come too close to giving up, too close to death, but by some miracle he was still here. All he could do was ride out this loss of control, there was no stopping it.

Eventually, he ran out of steam and his hysteria quieted to the occasional choked sniffle. His throat and chest still hurt, his eyes burned, but the heavy stones of dread and fear were gone, as if letting go for a while purged their burden from his soul.

He didn't dare look at her, ashamed she was there to see him unravel. He pulled away from her embrace, dropped his forehead to his knees, and forced himself to take slow, measured breaths until the last of his anxiety dissolved.

"You know, I don't think broccoli pie will ever be funny to me again," she said. "Way to ruin our inside joke, Squall."

Squall laughed weakly and lifted his gaze to her face. Her eyes were rimmed in red, and her cheeks were still damp with tears, but she smiled and brushed the back of her knuckles against his jaw.

"I meant to give you something earlier and I forgot," she said as she dug into the pocket of her jeans to produce the platinum band he thought was lost forever. "I thought, maybe you'd want it back..."

He held out his hand, palm up to receive it and peered the inscription on the inside of the band.

_I Promise._

He slipped it onto his finger and found it didn't quite fit anymore, but that was true of a lot of things. In time, it would fit again the way it did before. He hoped the same proved true about everything else.

"I have a long way to go, Rin," he said. "I don't want to be like this..."

" _We._ "

"What?"

" _We_ have a long way to go," she said. "You and me. You don't think I'd let you do this by yourself, do you?"

Squall tugged her back to him, took her face between his palms and kissed his wife for the first time in more than two years.

* * *

On light feet, Ellone searched the ground floor of Garden, section by section. When a pair of soldiers breezed past her on her way out of the infirmary, Ellone ducked into the shadows, her heart knocking hard against her ribs, so loud she was sure they could hear it.

She held her breath and waited until their footsteps faded before proceeding, then returned to the lobby, faced with a decision.

Up or down?

Below was the unfamiliar MD level, a place she'd never visited before. Above, classrooms and administrative offices. Thalia could be anywhere. Zell could be anywhere. Maybe she fled Garden all together and took poor Zell with her.

No. She was still here, somewhere. Ellone could feel it.

But where?

Up or down.

_Pick one, go with it, El._

Seifer was right. No sense in debating it.

Up it was.

She took the stairs, her courage waning. She never expected to fight this fight alone. She'd never fought without Seifer there to back her up. Two years of training stacked against an adversary like Thalia looked pretty pitiful from where Ellone stood. She was out of her depth, on her own, and no longer sure this was a fight she could win.

_Bullshit, Elle. You can take her._

Of course Seifer would be listening in on her doubts, but she was comforted by his voice. Just knowing he was still alive spurred her on.

All she could do now was go forward.

The second floor was clear, no sign of either Thalia or Zell. The only sound was the soft echo of Ellone's boot soles on the dirty floor.

She hoped someone got her message, that someone was on the way to help Seifer. Her quick search of the infirmary yielded nothing of use, not that she expected to find anything. He was still conscious, and that was something.

On the third floor, her gut twisted with intuition and she took several deep breaths to prepare herself for the coming confrontation.

She wondered – was this how SeeDs felt before a battle? How Squall and the others felt before facing Ultimecia? If so, how did they keep going? How did they keep fighting after?

_You develop a taste for it. Get addicted to the rush..._

Ellone liked the training, but that was different. She could very well die today.

_Remember what I taught you, El. You'll be fine._

She cleared the reception area, then pushed open the door to the Headmaster's Office and was greeted by a strange, earthy, animal smell – sweet and putrid and damp. The skylight above lit the room in a dim, gray patina, but it was lighter here than elsewhere in the building. She could make out the shape of a man hanging from chains in the middle of the room.

Zell.

He sagged in his restraints, motionless, his chin against his chest. Dark streamers of blood ran down his torso and his bare legs. Ellone couldn't be sure if he was alive or not, but the sight of him wounded and helpless was enough fuel to wash away her fear and doubt.

On the floor at his feet lay the body of a woman half-wrapped in spider silk. Her eyes stared unblinking at something too distant for Ellone to see. Paralyzed or dead, but not Thalia.

When Thalia did not reveal herself immediately, Ellone paused in the doorway. She couldn't afford to walk into a trap or be caught with her back to her opponent. That way was certain death.

"Show yourself," Ellone called. "No more games. Let's just end this."

The only answer she received in return was the whisper of a thousand tiny legs as a legion of insects scuttled up the walls and swarmed over the floor around her feet.

She willed it away, remembered the room as it was supposed to look and the insects faded. The silken bindings around the woman's body evaporated, but the dull, vacant look in her glassy eyes remained.

Dead.

Ellone didn't let herself dwell on it. Not on who she might be or why she was killed. She turned her eyes away from the body and stepped into the room, swept her flashlight into the corners, but saw nothing amiss except Zell dangling in his chains.

He lifted his head as Ellone stepped further into the room. He blinked at her, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. His jaw trembled as he lifted his gaze to the glass ceiling, where a massive spider wove an intricate web against the night sky. A spider that was there and gone as Ellone saw through the illusion, but Zell continued to watch with dread.

"It's not there, Zell."

He turned his face back to her and his eyes filled with tears.

"Save yourself, Elle."

"I can't."

No matter what bargain they made, no matter what Thalia said, she would not let Ellone live, no more than Ellone would help her fulfill whatever awful goal she had in mind. One of them would not leave here alive.

Some part of Ellone hoped Thalia could be spared, even saved from her own delusions. Some part of her hoped that lost little girl still lived, but it was all too clear, there would be no happy ending, no redemption to be found here.

"She's gonna kill me," Zell said. He swallowed hard and followed the spider's movements. "When she does, she'll be distracted. Use it, okay?"

Zell's death was not part of the plan. Not that there was any more of a plan now than there was before, but Zell was just an innocent bystander. Thalia's only interest in him was as a means to hurt her. If Ellone could help it, Zell would not become collateral damage, and she would not sacrifice him to save herself.

"He's stupid, but brave. I'll give him that," Thalia said from the shadows behind Zell. She dragged a hand down his battered ribcage and Zell arced away from her touch, panting through his teeth. "How sweet it must be to have all the men in your life ready to die for you."

"I can protect myself."

"Can you?"

There was no point in trying to reason with her. They were too far beyond reason or compromise, and there was nothing left to say, nothing Ellone could do to save her. All she could do now was give Thalia the mercy of a quick death.

_Anger is a just another tool. Use it like fuel, but never let it control you._

Wise words in training, but much harder in practice. It would be so easy to allow herself to be overwhelmed by rage, to lose focus in the face of her own anger.

Ellone tightened her grip on her weapons, her heartbeat quickened and she surged forward to fight, to protect Zell, her family, Seifer, herself. She ignored the dark spots that bled across the wood floor like spilled ink, ignored the eight legged shadows on the walls. There was only the two of them, only now, here.

This.

* * *

Somewhere between consciousness and dreams, Seifer sat up and fumbled for the phone in his pocket. Maybe it was too late to save himself, but the least he could do was call for some back-up for Ellone. She would need all the help she could get, and he was in no position to fight with her.

Not that he doubted her. She was better than she believed, in more ways than one.

It was for that reason alone Seifer wasn't ready to close his eyes and accept this fate. Ellone was everything good in his world. His death might be a foregone conclusion, but he'd be damned if he gave up without a fight.

With numb fingers, he withdrew the phone and punched at the screen to call up the messaging system.

He couldn't feel his hands. Or his toes, for that matter. Or most of his face.

As he struggled with the phone, nausea boiled up from the depths of his stomach and a wave of dizziness blurred his vision. It sent him back to the ground and he closed his eyes to focus on breathing.

Every breath was a fight to draw. His chest hurt and pulsing lights beat behind his closed lids, in time with the too-slow throb of his heart. It would be easier to let it happen, to stop fighting the poison in his veins, but Seifer was never one to do things the easy way.

He forced himself into a sitting position and ignored the bile in his throat. He ignored the way the world spun and tilted as he struggled to his feet. He pretended his legs didn't shake beneath his weight.

Seifer Almasy was not going to go out this way.

From somewhere inside the building came the sound of machine gun fire, shouts.

Ellone versus Thalia's army. Or someone else. Seifer was too preoccupied to tell. All his focus was on staying alert, and breathing. He needed to keep breathing.

He made it as far as his discarded weapon before his chest constricted and his heart sputtered. The world went black, then brilliant white, and he tasted dirt on his lips, smelled mildew and moisture and grass. Excruciating pain shot up and down his left side, up the tendons of his neck and down his left arm, into his hip and femur.

There was no air; he couldn't lift himself up off the ground.

" _You brought your grenades, right?"_

" _Just smoke bombs."_

" _But that's no fun. You said I could blow something up!"_

" _Okay, yeah, I brought one grenade, but it's old. Who knows if it's good anymore?"_

" _It's not like they go bad like milk or something."_

" _Keep your voice down, Seffie. She could be anywhere."_

" _Pretty sure she heard you shooting, so what's the point of being quiet?"_

Seifer cracked open an eye and turned his face to the side. The bushes next to him thrashed and two pair of boots appeared beneath the branches.

Thank Hyne for small favors. If he was lucky, one of them brought an antidote with them. If he wasn't, they would get to watch him die.

"Where the heck are they?" Selphie wondered.

"...here," Seifer choked out, but there was no way either could hear the dry rasp, barely a whisper and likely inaudible over the crunch of underbrush beneath their boots. He tried again. "Here. I'm... here."

"You hear something?"

"I dunno," Selphie said. "This place is super creepy all dark and quiet, though. You'd think if he was here, he'd make some noise or something."

"Elle said he was injured."

"Maybe he's dead."

The way she said it was so indifferent. Like commenting on the weather or the color of the sky. Selphie never cared much for him after Trabia, and Seifer didn't fault her for it. He faulted her for everything else she was, but not that. She wasn't alone in the sentiment.

"Don't say that," Laguna said.

Seifer opened his mouth, sucked in as much breath as he could and shouted. They heard him that time, and he watched their boots draw closer, faster and then hands laid against his back and turned him over. Above him, Laguna's pale face hovered like a misshapen moon.

"You're all right, son," Laguna promised. "We'll get you fixed up. Seffie, the antidote?"

Seifer's heart fluttered in his chest, gave a tight and excruciating throb, and the moon winked out of existence.

* * *

As Ellone lunged at Thalia, something inside her chest tore loose. Ripples of pain flared through her entire body, across her ribs like a blaze of wildfire. She pressed the heel of her hand to her heart and clenched her teeth against it, her breath gone and an unexpected emptiness inside her head.

_Seifer?_

He wasn't there.

The pain faded, but the emptiness stayed. It could only mean the connection was broken, forcibly so.

It stole her will to fight and she almost dropped her blades in surrender, but one look at Zell's battered body was enough to keep her going. She would think about Seifer later, about what it meant that he was no longer there. The broken connection didn't mean he was gone yet.

She slashed at the retreating figure and the tip of her blade caught the back of Thalia's dress. Shadows curled around the edges of the room like human shadows with elongated arms and heads and extra legs. They crowded around her, obscuring her vision. As Ellone pushed through them, she would swear they were not merely shadows but made of some ectoplasmic substance that resisted her momentum. It clung to her arms and her face but pushed forward, through it and only once she was past them, did she remember it wasn't real.

_Focus, Elle. Keep your mind on the target. Don't give in to panic._

The connection was broken, but Seifer's counsel during training remained. If she could rely on that, she would have the conviction to see this to the end.

Zell dangled before her, his cheeks wet with tears. Thalia pressed a thin blade to his sternum and Ellone froze.

"One more step and I'll kill him."

"It's all right, Elle," Zell said. His bottom lip shook. "Kill her and it'll be worth it."

"As you wish," Thalia said.

Ellone surged forward as Thalia pushed the blade into Zell's skin with a quick, hard stab. The blade came away wet and Zell gave a thin cry as he thrashed in his chains. Too much blood, too much, but her rage boiled over, no longer a tool but an all-consuming need for vengeance and she tackled Thalia to the floor. Thalia's head hit the desk with a sickening crack as something blunt struck Ellone's side. There was no pain, only pressure as the protective gear absorbed most of the blow.

Thalia threw her off with more strength than Ellone expected, and Ellone landed on her left side. A flare of pain lit up her ribs and she noticed something warm and sticky beneath her shirt. The room around her shifted, bright light all she could see...

… _.the needles hurt. Somewhere to her left, an erratic beep measures the beat of her heart._

_The clamp around her ankle hurts more than the needles. It tightens and cuts into her tender skin to measure something Odine calls a "pain threshold." The word "threshold" calls up images of doorways that all lead outside to freedom, but they never give her the chance to run, not after she tried to escape the first time._

_But Hyne, it hurts._

_She won't cry. Not for this. Not in front of them._

_She thinks of Raine, Laguna as the pressure increases to the point where she can't hold in her screams any longer. The snap of bone, the tang of blood inside her mouth where she's bitten through the inside of her cheek..._

Ellone pushed back against the vision. She pictured Cid's office, the wood floor, the faded steel of dusk above and it shifted back. Sure her ankle was broken, she cast one of her blades aside, reached down and found it secure in her boot, uninjured and free of pain.

Thalia played the same game as Ellone, in her own way. It was only a distraction.

Thalia scrambled across the floor toward Zell, who now hung limp with his chin against his chest. His lower half was drenched in red. Ellone grabbed hold of Thalia's calf, gave it a hard yank, and the pain in her side blazed so hot, she was blinded by it. Thalia kicked her in the face and Ellone's lip split, but she didn't let go until the other woman was pinned beneath her.

Was it cowardice to stab her in the back? Would it really matter?

Squall would tell her yes. Seifer would say it didn't, so long as she was dead.

Ellone raised her blade, the taste of blood in her mouth.

A concussive blast split the air around her, and the floor rumbled beneath her. Her ears popped and shards of glass rained down around them with a musical but dissonant clatter as they crashed against the floor. The room filled with smoke and the screams of men. A pair of voices rose together in a wail of agony, but they were not screams she recognized.

" _Booyaka! Told you it would work!"_

" _...I'm not sure that was necessary, Sef."_

" _It was so! Did you SEE how quick they went down? Ka-blooey! I think that dude's arm ended up in the fake ficus tree. Gives new meaning to the word_ limbs _doesn't it..."_

" _You are a very morbid woman, you know that?"_

" _Will the two of you shut the hell up? Just 'cause you took down a few doesn't mean there aren't more."_

Reinforcements.

_Seifer._

Though no longer connected, his voice calmed her, whether illusion or not.

They could help Zell, if it wasn't too late.

Beneath her, Thalia pushed herself up and nearly bucked Ellone off her back, but Ellone grasped hold of Thalia's hair and held firm, even as the woman twisted around to face her. She struck out at Ellone, still wielding the thin blade in one hand, and she clawed at Ellone's vest with the other. The blade ripped across Ellone's cheek and the sting of it brought moisture to her eyes.

"We're the same, you and me," Thalia hissed. "We're the same."

"No. We're _not_."

Ellone didn't hesitate this time. She drove the blade into Thalia's chest, once, twice, three times, unaware that the screams she heard were her own. The steel cut through flesh and bone and Ellone felt it in the tang of the blade, in the palms of her hands, deep down in her soul. She could feel the life drain out of Thalia's body, the tragedy of her existence drawing to a close.

She dragged the Talon across Thalia's throat for good measure. The blade cut deep, severing vein and artery, cartilage and tendon. Dark, thick blood bubbled from the wound in rivers that in the dim light looked more like molten tar than blood.

Glassy eyes the exact shade of the sky above peered up at her, blinked once, and slid shut. The flow of blood from her wounds slowed.

Mercy. Or as close to it as Ellone could get.

She began to sob with relief that it was over, but also out of sorrow that _this_ was the only option. Ellone wept for the little girl who deserved a better life than the one she got. For her brother and all he suffered and would continue to suffer for years to come. For Zell and the rift Thalia caused among friends. For Rinoa, Laguna, for Seifer and herself. For the two years of their lives lost to this fight. It was a relief to end it, but it hurt so damn _much_.

There were voices in the room with her, the voices of those she knew and trusted, but she couldn't make out what they said. Arms encircled her from behind, too thick and strong to belong to Laguna or Selphie, and Ellone wept harder as he drew her back against his chest.

"You did good, Elle," he promised. "You got her. It's over. You did good."

Ellone could not agree or disagree. There was nothing good about killing, even if there was no other choice.

But deep down, there was a part of her that wasn't sorry at all.


	26. Chapter 26

* * *

26

* * *

Seifer tended the wound on Ellone's cheek as Selphie and Laguna removed Zell from his chains. Ellone was quiet and no longer crying, but Seifer was wary of the far-away look in her eye and the way she didn't look at him directly.

The wound would leave a scar. In time, it would fade to a hairline, but it would always be there to remind her.

He ignored the ugly pain back-building in his chest and wiped the blood from her skin. Hyne willing, this would be the last time. Now, more than ever, and though the fight was done, the sight of her blood brought out a fierce and protective instinct in him. Thalia was most definitely dead, but that didn't stop Seifer from wishing to kill her all over again.

"He needs an ambulance," Selphie said of Zell. "He's lost a bunch of blood."

Seifer looked away from Ellone and to Zell, prone on the ground and deathly pale. He got to his feet and almost passed out as his heart hammered out a strange, unhealthy beat.

He knelt beside Zell and surveyed the damage. Most of his wounds were not grave, and many barely broke the skin, but the one in his abdomen was deep and likely mortal if he didn't get treatment. Potions would stem the flow of blood, but they couldn't replace what was lost.

Zell's heartbeat was fast, but weak. Seifer leaned down and placed his ear against Zell's chest and heard a tell-tale rattle with each slow breath.

"If we wait for an ambulance, he's gonna drown in his own blood," Seifer said.

He might not make it anyway, but their best option was to load him into one of their cars and drive like hell to the hospital in town.

"Help me get him up," Seifer said to Laguna and tossed his keys to Selphie. "Tilmitt, you're driving."

Selphie's grim expression turned into a broad smile, and Seifer paused for a half a second to consider his decision. She was the one that rammed the Lunatic Pandora with an airship. If she drove even remotely like she flew, there was a better than average chance they wouldn't make it to town alive.

"Just get us there without wrecking," Seifer said.

He hooked one of Zell's limp arms around his shoulders and hoisted him up from the ground.

Together, Seifer and Laguna half-carried, half-dragged Zell down the stairs, into the lobby and out to Seifer's car. They stuffed him into the back seat and Seifer checked his pulse again.

It would be a miracle if they got him to the emergency room alive. He didn't say it out loud, but one look at Ellone said he didn't need to.

As he opened the passenger door to get in the car, Ellone swayed, sank to her knees and slumped to the ground. Seifer bolted to her side, and a particularly nasty pain ripped through his chest. It radiated through his shoulder and down his left arm, but he dropped down beside Ellone, jaw clenched against the pressure in his rib cage.

He lifted Ellone up into a sitting position and found something slick and warm on her side. When he pulled his hand away, it was wet with blood.

"Shit, Elle," he said and peeled away the protective vest and lifted her t-shirt to reveal her entire side was soaked in blood. "Damn you. Why didn't you tell me?"

Just below the hem of her bra was a deep puncture wound. In removing the vest, he took away the pressure that kept her from bleeding worse. Now that it was gone, the wound bled freely and profusely. He cursed under his breath and poured their last potion into the wound.

The potion slowed the bleeding, but didn't stop it enough to satisfy him.

"Tilmitt, give me a hand."

Selphie crouched down beside Ellone and offered him the cardigan she left in Laguna's car. Seifer used it to bind the wound, then Selphie helped him refasten the vest over it. With any luck, it would be enough to keep her alive.

The pain in his chest was excruciating, but he pretended it wasn't there as he lifted Ellone into his arms and climbed inside the car. He bundled her into his lap in the front seat, his arms wrapped tight around her waist. In the back, Zell lay silent and motionless.

If they were still connected, Seifer could be convinced his pain was Ellone's, that he felt it the way he felt Edea's and Ultimecia's, but that connection broke when he lost consciousness in the Training Center.

This was something different. He knew the signs and figured if it ever came to this, he would be a much older man with hardened arteries and a shitty diet to blame for it. He figured it would be his reckless lifestyle choices, years down the road, that led to something like this, not a fucking spider.

What irony.

"You okay?" Selphie asked from the driver's seat as she stepped on the gas too hard and squealed the tires. "You look weird."

"Naw, I'm not," he said breathlessly. "I'm having a fucking heart attack."

"I know! All this is _super_ stressful," Selphie said. "I expected someone to get hurt, but this is a lot."

There was a behemoth sitting on his chest. Ground glass in his heart, in his veins, his nerve endings.

"No, Tilmitt, I mean that in the l-literal sense, as in my heart is actually trying to _kill me_ , so drive fucking faster and shut your t-trap, w-will ya?"

* * *

They lay tangled together on the couch as a fire burned low in the hearth. Squall's head rested against Rinoa's shoulder and he watched the flames dance as she massaged the muscles of his neck. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this safe.

It was true he didn't completely trust this reality. He wagered it might be a long time before there wasn't a part of him that braced for the worst, but he was almost entirely sure the arms around him belonged to his wife, that the roof over his head would not come crashing down around him, and that he would wake tomorrow a free man and in the company of people who loved him.

That small part that still doubted was toxic. It poisoned his perception to one degree or another.

How long before that stopped?

For the last hour, they lay like this, occasionally exchanging kisses or gentle touches, but neither spoke as they waited for the phone to ring or for headlights and the rumble of an engine in the driveway.

This was a perfect opportunity to tell Rinoa everything, from start to finish, but he couldn't find the words and he didn't know if he'd make any sense. It was half fever dream, half nightmare. If he talked about it now, he would unravel again.

"Rin, I -" he began but trailed off when he noticed the photographs, dozens of them, of himself alongside the newer photos of Zell and Selphie and Laguna and the kids. "When did you put those back out?"

"What?"

"The pictures of me."

Rinoa turned her face to the mantle, where the new mingled among the old.

"About a week or so after they brought you home. Why?"

Thalia still held some power over him, didn't she? She manipulated his perception of home, of family in subtle, yet cruel ways. The photos were there all along, and she didn't let him see them. She let him believe Rinoa scrubbed all evidence of his existence from the house.

"I guess I just didn't notice," he lied.

What did it mean that he now saw it as it was? Was it just acceptance finally dawning on him, or did Thalia loosen her hold?

Did that mean she was dead?

He checked his watch. Almost two hours since Laguna and Selphie left to aid Ellone and Seifer. Reluctant though he was to break Rinoa's embrace, he sat up and checked his phone for any messages he missed.

Nothing.

"Do you think they're okay?" Rinoa asked.

"No news is good news."

"Not always," Rinoa said.

"Not always," he agreed. "But they'll call if something's wrong."

"I can't stand waiting," she said. "I'd rather be doing."

"Look at it this way," Squall said, "we're protecting our home and family. That's just as important."

Rinoa's gaze was unimpressed. "Don't placate me, Squall. It doesn't help."

He took her hand and held on as he watched the fire in silence. It was a long time before he broke it.

"I've been thinking about where to go from here," he said. "What to do with myself now that I don't have a job..."

"Good riddance to it," Rinoa said. "I don't know what I would do if it was there for you to go back to."

She'd always resented SeeD, and perhaps with good reason. It was all Squall knew, and even when forced into a role that did not suit him, there was no other choice but to take it. She understood, but it didn't stop her from resenting Cid and the organization itself, for what it was, for the burden they put upon him, and for all the things it took from him.

"...I'm not sure I would go back," he admitted. "Or that they would have me back like this."

Rinoa ran her fingertips over the scars on his wrist. "So what, then?"

He bit his lip and leaned back into the couch cushion, his eyes fixed on a photo of Ella holding Ari.

"... I was thinking, for now, maybe it would be best if you ran the store and I..."

"Play housewife?"

Squall frowned. "I was going to say run the household, but if that's what you prefer to call it, then yes."

Rinoa didn't get angry, she didn't laugh, she just looked at him.

"Are you ready to handle it?" she asked. "I mean, physically speaking. It doesn't seem like a lot, but the kids alone can take it out of you - "

"I just want to take some of the burden off your shoulders until we're ready for the next step. It'll give me a chance to make it up to the kids, for being gone."

"We could give it a try," Rinoa agreed after a minute of consideration. "But I don't want you to overexert yourself, either. I want you to get stronger, not get overwhelmed trying to make up for lost time."

"I'll take it slow," he promised. "I just need something to focus on, and family seems like a good option."

"Okay," she said. "But you have to swear to me, if it ever seems like too much, you'll tell me and not try to do everything by yourself."

"Only if you swear to me you'll tell me if you need a break from the store," Squall said. "I know you've been working seven days a week for a long time. If you need a break, I can cover it."

His phone rang and his gut clenched when his father's number came up on the display. If all was well, he anticipated they would come to the house. A phone call meant things did not go as planned.

"Heya, son," Laguna said. "It's me."

"I know. What happened?"

"Well...

"Laguna."

"I prefer dad."

"Laguna, spit it out."

"We're on our way to the hospital," Laguna said. "Zell, he... And Elle."

Squall pressed a hand to his forehead. "Zell and Elle what?"

"They were both injured," Laguna said. "We didn't know about Elle. She didn't tell us. And that woman got a hold of Zell... He's in bad shape. He may not make it, son."

Squall stood and limped to the foyer. He ignored Rinoa's questioning look as he stuffed his feet into his trainers and reached for his jacket.

"And Thalia?" he asked tightly.

"She's deader than a chocobo with no front legs."

That was a comparison Squall didn't even try to make sense of. He got the point.

"You sure?"

"Positive. Ellone took care of it herself."

Rinoa woke the kids as Squall started the car. He let it idle in the driveway, the heat blasting to warm the interior, and only then did guilt hit him. For not being able to assist, and at the thought of Zell in Thalia's hands. None of it was Zell's fault, not even the beating he dished out during their last conversation.

Rinoa emerged from the house, Ari bundled in blankets rather than in a jacket and Stella in a coat over her pajamas. Though Squall was impatient to go, he waited in silence as Rinoa buckled them both into the back seat.

"What's going on?" Stella asked.

"Your Uncle Zell and Aunt Ellone got hurt," Squall said. "We're going to the hospital."

"Are they going to die?"

"I don't know, kiddo," he said.

"Squall..." Rinoa scolded from the passenger seat.

"We made a deal, didn't we Stella Raine?" he asked as he backed out of the drive.

"Dad will always tell the truth," Stella said.

He felt Rinoa's gaze on him and he counted on a conversation about what was and wasn't an appropriate truth to tell later, but Squall didn't see the point of lying after Rinoa hauled their daughter out of bed to go to the hospital where she would figure out things were not okay.

And things were not okay when they arrived. Laguna paced the waiting room while Selphie sat on a nearby couch and fiddled with her boots as if there wasn't blood smeared across the front of her shirt. Seifer was nowhere to be seen.

"Zell and Elle are both in surgery," Laguna said. "Seifer was admitted for chest pains, even though he didn't want to be."

Laguna gave a quick synopsis of what he knew, which wasn't much, except that all three of them suffered various injuries, ranging from a venomous spider bite to puncture wounds to massive internal bleeding.

"We thought Ellone was fine," Laguna said. "Then she passed out and when Seifer tried to bring her around, he figured out she'd been stabbed. Blade went in at the seam of her vest and when he took it off, she started bleeding really bad."

"She didn't say anything about it?"

Laguna shook his head.

"Not a word," Laguna said, "but killing that woman... It took a lot out of her."

The thought of Ellone doing the deed was incomprehensible to Squall. While he was aware Seifer trained her, it was difficult to picture his sassy but ultimately kind sister as a vengeful killer. He would hate Seifer till the day he died if it left her damaged in some way.

"And Zell?"

"He's fighting for his life right now," Laguna said and turned his gaze to the floor. "He wasn't breathing when we brought him in."

"No," Rinoa whispered. "He said he was fine."

"I don't know when you talked to him, but it looked like Thalia had him for a while when we got there."

Rinoa's face crumpled and Squall gathered her into his chest. Her face was pale, angry, and no doubt she believed this could have been avoided if she'd joined the fray. Maybe so, maybe so, but if there was anything Squall didn't regret about the whole situation, it was keeping Rinoa at home.

"I can help," she said. "I can fix them."

"I don't know if the doctor will agree to that," Laguna said.

"I don't care!" Rinoa shouted. "You all keep leaving me out and keeping things from me and I'm sick of it! I'm not going to stand aside and do nothing while the rest of you make decisions for me. I can help him _, so let me!_ "

Squall agreed. Speaking from experience, there was no better way to heal a person than a Sorceress' magic. Curatives, para-magic, not even medical expertise and a skilled surgeon could compare to what Rinoa was capable of. If she couldn't save Zell, nothing could.

* * *

Zell died twice on the operating table, his blood pressure too low and the internal bleeding too bad to sustain a heartbeat, but he fought hard to stay alive. Twice, he died and twice, he came back, but by the time Laguna convinced the doctors to let Rinoa in, Zell's death was an inevitability. Rinoa was now a last resort.

That was fine with her. Better to be a last resort than not get a chance to help at all. At least, she could say she tried. And if it didn't help, at least she could say she was with him in the end.

She took in his waxy, pale complexion and the awful wound just below his sternum. Zell was small in stature, but he never looked so fragile as he did now.

It would be so easy to fall apart, but Zell could not afford anything but her complete focus.

Through her eyes were filled with tears, she did not give into panic or premature grief. There was still a chance. Beside her, Squall held the Odine bangle, more to reassure the doctors it would go back on when she was finished than anything else.

Squall laid his hand against the small of her back as she pressed her palm against the wound and took Zell's hand with the other.

She would never love him the way he loved her, but that didn't mean she loved him any less. He was important to her, he mattered, and Rinoa could not imagine her life without him in it.

Best friend, confidant, co-conspirator, anchor, _family_.

The magic poured out of her in waves of pure white light and into Zell's chest. She closed her eyes and pictured flesh kitting itself back together, and willed the damaged tissue to repair itself. She willed his heart to beat strong and steady under her hand.

No matter what struggle lay ahead of them, if there was any struggle to be had at all, Zell needed to live. There was too much left for him to do and too many things he had yet to experience.

At first, nothing happened. She could feel the flow of blood from the transfusion in his veins, and the damage come undone as her magic filled his body. Then, the smaller cuts faded before her eyes, sealing themselves closed. On the monitor beside the bed, his erratic heartbeat steadied. Color returned to his cheeks.

She scanned him and found while he was still in poor shape, he was no longer in grave danger. He would be in pain when he woke up, but he _would_ wake up.

When the magic dissipated, Rinoa sat back in her chair, drained of energy. The doctor checked Zell over, then nodded to herself.

"Impressive," the doctor said. "You ever consider the medical field, Mrs. Leonhart?"

"I'm a Sorcerss, not a doctor," she said. "There's a reason I don't do this often."

"The verdict?" Squall asked.

"Provided there are no other complications, I'd say he should make a full recovery in about a week's time," she said. "Possibly sooner."

"And Ellone?"

"She's resting comfortably. We've sedated her to keep her calm. She became quite agitated at one point," the doctor said. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to allow a little magic to speed along her recovery as well, if you're up for it."

Of course she was up for it. If this was what she could do to help, then she would without question.

"What about Seifer?" Rinoa asked.

"That one will die of sheer pig-headed stubbornness," the doctor said. "He'll be fine now that we've figured out he wasn't having a heart attack. The pain he experienced was a result of his body healing itself, something we've never seen before."

"Anything I can do to help him?"

"Convince him that he's not invincible and you'll have my complete and total surrender should you ever decide to take over the world," the doctor said.

"My power only goes so far," Rinoa said. "I doubt anything I say or do will keep him in bed if he doesn't want to be there."

"I'll talk to him," Squall said. "Is it all right if Rinoa tends to Ellone by herself? I'll leave the bangle with you if you prefer."

The doctor consented and Squall left Rinoa with a kiss on the cheek.

By leaps and bounds, her husband was returning to her.

* * *

Seifer looked like crap when Squall entered his room. Laguna was already there, but clearly out of his depth as Seifer tore off the oxygen mask and tossed it aside.

"Finally, a rational person," Seifer said. "Will you please tell them I'm fine now? I don't need any tests, I need to get out of this bed."

Squall snorted and eased into the chair Laguna vacated just as a harassed-looking nurse injected Seifer with what Squall assumed was a tranquilizer or pain medication of some sort. Squall doubted the man actually needed it for pain management, and it said a lot about how annoying a patient he'd been thus far that he needed to be drugged.

"I swear to Hyne, if you stick me with anything else, I'm going to stab you in the heart with it," Seifer growled at the nurse.

The nurse leveled him with a cool, wordless stare, unmoved by his threat.

"Ignore him," Squall advised. "He's all bark."

Squall didn't mention the part where Seifer was as likely to bark as bite.

"They're just doing their job, son," Laguna said to Seifer. "No need to get all worked up."

"I'll get all worked up if I want to," Seifer snapped. "And furthermore, you're not my fath-"

He broke off and looked away from Laguna's crestfallen expression.

"I know I'm not your dad," Laguna said, "but I consider you family, whether or not you feel the same way, son."

Seifer stared at his hands, his cheeks redder than Squall had ever seen them outside of training.

"Didn't mean it."

Laguna patted his leg.

"I make a pretty lousy patient myself, or so someone once told me," Laguna said. "I'll let the two of you talk. I'm gonna go check on Elle."

"Rinoa's with her now," Squall said.

Seifer lifted his eyes from his lap and turned them on Squall. "How is she?"

"She's fine," Squall said. "Rinoa will take care of the rest."

"Hmm. Good."

Laguna excused himself and Seifer settled back into the pillows, no longer agitated, just weary.

"She the reason you were all but ready to rip the needles out of your arm?" Squall asked.

Seifer nodded at the wall across from him.

"Why?" Squall asked.

"You know why."

"You love her."

"Yep."

Squall suspected as much, but wondered if Ellone felt the same way. She was fond of Seifer, that was obvious, but for the life of him, Squall couldn't figure out what Ellone saw in him. He always figured if Ellone were to settle down, it would be with someone kinder and gentler than Seifer Almasy.

Then again, there was a lot more to Seifer than what he let the world see. Ellone probably knew things about Seifer that no one else did. Maybe, even things Seifer didn't know about himself.

"Spare me the over-protective little brother act, will ya?" Seifer said. "Not really in the mood and it's not necessary."

"No?" Squall wondered.

"Look, if I ever do anything to hurt her, she'll kick my ass herself," Seifer said. "She doesn't need you to do it for her."

"Fair point," Squall said. "But -"

"Besides," Seifer interrupted, "It won't be me that bails, it'll be the other way around. I can't even get a straight answer from her half the time. Hell, she can't even decide where we're going on vacation."

Seifer laughed softly to himself and his eyelids slipped shut.

"I don't want her to go," Seifer said drowsily. "They always leave..."

Squall frowned. That was a little too much information, but very telling just the same. Who would ever guess, deep down, Seifer was so vulnerable? Or that he harbored his own issues with abandonment?

"Should get her somethin' nice," Seifer said. "Maybe then, she'll say yes."

Squall was careful to keep his expression neutral, but on the inside, he was screaming.

"You didn't ask her to marry you, did you?"

"Naw," Seifer said. "She'd never say yes, even if I actually wanted to jump off that bridge..."

Seifer snickered and turned his head toward Squall.

"She won't even call me her boyfriend," he said with a big, dopey grin. He sobered, but his eyes went a little unfocused. "You would have been real proud of her today, Squall. She took Blackheart out, all by herself, no help from me. If I coulda, a woulda. Goddamn spider..."

Seifer yawned and his eyes slid shut again.

"...her ass looks great in tactical pants..." he murmured.

"Careful, Almasy. That's my sister you're talking about," Squall said, but Seifer shrugged it off.

"Kinda miss her bein' in my head," he muttered and his dopey grin returned. "Too damn quiet without her sassin' me an tellin' me what to do."

Seifer let Ellone in his head? Willingly? After Ultimecia, Squall assumed Seifer wouldn't want anything to do with things that reminded him of her. Furthermore, Ellone hated being inside other people's heads and avoided it unless there wasn't another option.

It said a lot about how much trust there was between them.

And how much more there was to it than Squall ever suspected.

* * *

When Seifer woke, the clock on the wall over the door read a quarter to five. It was still dark outside the window, so he assumed it was morning. Still groggy from the harpy of a nurse's drugs, Seifer sat up and hoisted his legs over the edge of the bed. He removed the heartbeat monitor from his finger, then unplugged the machine from the wall when the steady beep became an obnoxious flat-line.

He surveyed the needles in his arm, decided to leave them where they were, and grasped the stand connected to the baggies of glucose and got to his feet. He found his belongings in a plastic bag in a chair beside the door, dressed in spite of the dried blood on his shirt and discarded the hospital gown in the trash.

At the door, he surveyed the hall, but there was no one around. To his right was the nurse's station and the lobby. To his left, more rooms and the operating theater.

On sock-clad feet, he hung a left and went off in search of Ellone. Squall said she was fine, but he wanted to confirm that for himself. He found her three rooms down, hooked up to the same equipment he just abandoned.

He wheeled the IV stand ahead of him and sat down beside the bed. There was an oxygen mask over her face, but a bruise bloomed on her cheek above the scar Thalia's blade left. Seifer brushed his fingers over it and found comfort in the steady pulse on the monitor on the other side of the bed.

Seifer didn't know why, but he couldn't shake the suspicion that she would leave now that the fight was done.

_I don't need to be your girlfriend._

_Can I think about it?_

"What are you running from, Elle?" he wondered.

Somewhere out in the hall, a doctor was paged to the emergency room. Ellone didn't give him his answer.

He dropped his hand to hers and watched the steady rise and fall of her breathing for a while.

It would figure, the one woman in the entire world who wasn't afraid of him, the one woman he fell head over heels for was the one who wouldn't commit. A younger Seifer would take that as a challenge, but the man he was now didn't want to dick around. Not when he finally found someone who got him, all the way through.

The sun was on the horizon, and Seifer half asleep when Ellone woke with a sharp cry. She sat up, her eyes wild and her chest heaving, both hands on the rail of the bed as though she planned to climb over the side and run for her life.

Seifer scooted his chair closer and stayed her hands as her heavy breaths fogged the oxygen mask.

"Stop it. You're all right," he promised. "You're safe."

Her gaze shifted around the room and she lifted the mask away from her face. In her hands, Seifer felt her trembling. It was then he understood.

"This isn't O-Lab, Elle," he said. "You're in Balamb."

She blinked at him, cast her eyes to the door, then down to his hands. Her panicked breaths slowed and the tension in her shoulders relaxed.

"It's over, Elle," he said.

She turned her face to the ceiling and Seifer dropped the rail on the bed so he could get closer. He sat on the edge of the mattress and brushed her hair away from her face. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes at his touch.

"She's really gone?"

"She's really gone," he promised.

Seifer stayed where he was until a nurse bustled into the room and flicked on the light. She frowned at him and put her hands on her hips.

"Sir, you can't -"

"Aww, spare me the lecture," he said as he got up and returned to the chair. "Do what you gotta do. I'm not leaving."

Ellone cut her eyes at him, but she didn't say anything as the nurse took her vitals and wrote something on a clip-board. The wound on her side was examined by a doctor shortly thereafter. The scar was much worse than the one on her cheek, but it was healed.

Seifer stayed put until an hour later, when the doctor gave Ellone clearance to be released, but not without strict orders to take it easy for a few days. In the car back to the hotel, she stared out the window, too quiet for Seifer's liking. He didn't expect a celebration, but her distance concerned him.

"Why didn't you tell us she stabbed you?" he demanded.

"I didn't know," Ellone said. "It felt like... Like she punched me. I thought maybe she broke a rib."

"You could have died, Elle."

"Wouldn't be the first time," she said softly. "Would it?"

There was nothing Seifer could say to that.

As they rounded the corner to the hotel, in the distance, the outline of a familiar ship was moored just off the harbor. White rear-facing sails, long and sleek and built for speed.

The White SeeDs.

Edea.

Ellone was going to leave him.


	27. Chapter 27

* * *

27

* * *

At the Hotel, Ellone kicked off her shoes at the door and stripped off her jacket. Her body ached all over and the antiseptic hospital smell clung to her skin. She was eager to wash it off.

"Elle?"

Ellone didn't turn around to face him, but continued on to the bathroom, shedding clothing in her wake.

She didn't know what to say to him now that the fight was over.

There was no sense of accomplishment or victory or even relief. She killed a woman who didn't know the difference between reality and fantasy. She killed a little girl who never got a chance to know how good it was to love and be loved. No matter how necessary in the end, it left a bad taste in her mouth.

"You hungry?"

Ellone shook her head and turned the water on as hot as it would go. Behind her, Seifer stripped away his own soiled clothing to join her.

She wanted to be alone, but didn't have the heart to tell him to leave. There were things she needed to sort out, on her own, and Seifer was a distraction. He wouldn't understand.

The water was too hot, but she stood under the stream and let it scald her skin. That was the good thing about hotels. They never ran out of hot water.

It burned away the scent of blood and the hospital smell, soothed the tension in her tired muscles as Seifer shampooed her hair and scrubbed away the remnants of battle from her battered body.

But it didn't chase away the urge to run.

It wasn't just Thalia. It was everything. Seifer. Squall. Laguna. The blood on her hands. The ever-present feeling that she didn't belong anywhere, not even here, with him.

Everything was temporary. Everything.

Even after more than twelve years since reuniting with Laguna and Squall, she didn't trust it was for keeps. Nor did she trust this thing with Seifer would last, now that the fighting was done. Their mutual quest to save Squall and put Thalia out of her misery kept them in each other's way, but that was over now. What was there to say, now that their shared goal was complete?

Seifer's lips pressed against the back of her neck and his hands caressed the planes of her body, not in his usual lusty, demanding way, but as though he sensed her conflict. It was a wordless plea: _stay, stay with me, don't go, I need you_.

Her tears mingled with the water as she wept, unable to keep it inside. Seifer's arms enfolded her from behind and his mouth grazed over her temple and her cheekbone. That only made it worse.

"I know," he murmured. "I know."

What did he know? That the ground beneath her feet started to tilt the minute Thalia's heart stopped beating? That nothing good ever lasted? That this whole time, he was a distraction from reality, that she somehow convinced herself maybe she belonged with him in Esthar? That she didn't know how to come to a full stop?

It was a pipe dream. It would be fun, at first. Co-habitating, playing at being domestic, sharing meals and chores. Then reality would set in.

The only thing Ellone knew was constant change, of moving from one place to the next, from one thing to another. She didn't know anything else. There was no longer a reason to run, but that didn't stop the inertia of the past from acting upon her.

Seifer turned off the shower and wrapped her in a bathrobe, towel dried her hair, and frowned at her bruised and scarred cheek. His fingers brushed over it and Ellone's tears spilled over again.

"Sleep on it," he said. "You won't feel this bad tomorrow."

But she didn't sleep. She lay awake in the circle of his arms, the strong, steady thump of his heartbeat against her back and his soft breath against her neck.

There was a decision to make now. Follow her instinct and return to the life she knew and find comfort in the sameness of the days upon the ocean and constant scenery changes, or face the unknown and explore the uncharted waters of something more permanent?

When she could lie still no longer, she extracted herself from his arms, got up and went to the window. From there, the White SeeD ship was visible. SeeDs and children milled about the deck as they prepared to disembark to gather supplies and explore the town in small groups.

It was a lonely life, and though it was spent on the move, it was a stable one. She knew what to expect, and what her role was aboard the White SeeD ship. Though her time tracking Thalia proved she was capable of things she never believed she was capable of, she longed for that more innocent self – the one who never raised a weapon, never took a life, never allowed anyone to get too close.

She dressed in jeans and a sweater and packed her bag as quietly as she could. On the bed, Seifer snored softly, murmured her name, and rolled onto his back. In sleep, his face and body relaxed, he was beautiful.

If she left, it would break his heart, and a heart was something few people knew Seifer possessed. Ellone was among those privileged few. He all but handed it to her and she never asked for it.

She stood and rounded the bed, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and walked out. It was the best she could do for a goodbye.

The harbor was only a few blocks from the hotel. With her bag in hand, she covered the short distance in a few minutes and boarded the ship as children swarmed around her. Some recognized her and clamored for hugs, others were new and she greeted them as warmly as the others.

Hyne, how she missed their unconditional and uncomplicated affection.

Not much changed since the last time she set foot on the vessel, but it was like coming home. She breathed in the familiar scent of wood and fresh bread and listened to the sound of the children's excitement about going ashore.

"Welcome back, Ellone," Mala, one of the older SeeDs greeted. "It's been a long time."

"Too long," Ellone agreed. "Do you know where I can find Edea?"

"Starboard."

Edea stood against the rail, facing the sea. The breeze lifted strands of her unbound hair. There was more silver in it than Ellone remembered.

She stepped up beside her and dropped her bag to the deck.

"When do we depart?" Ellone asked.

"We'll be here for a week or so," Edea asked, "but I didn't expect you would want to go with us."

"I..." Ellone began, unsure of what to say or how to explain. "I'm homesick."

Edea turned to her and smoothed back Ellone's windswept hair. Edea's face was full of sorrow as she shook her head.

"This was never your home, dear," Edea said. "It was just a place you stayed. One of many, as I recall."

"If I don't belong here, where do I belong?"

"Perhaps you should ask him," Edea said and glanced over Ellone's shoulder.

Ellone followed her gaze. Seifer stood a few paces away, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his peacoat. Ellone stared and he stared back.

"I'll leave the two of you talk," Edea said.

She squeezed Seifer's arm as she passed by and acknowledged him with a nod. Seifer tensed at her touch, and she let him go. The history between them was almost palpable.

"You were going to leave without saying goodbye?" he asked, less angry than Ellone expected. "Not even a fucking note?"

"Seifer, I - "

"What did I do, Elle?" he demanded. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," she said. "It isn't you - "

"Blah, blah, blah, it isn't you, it's me," he said. "I've heard that one already. Try again."

"You don't understand."

"No, I sure as hell don't," he said. "But I think I deserve an explanation."

"I..." she faltered. There was no good way to explain it, no words adequate for the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She avoided this conversation for too long. Her lack of an answer gave him hope, when she intended the opposite. "Seifer, I..."

"What are you running from, Elle?" he demanded. "Don't you dare lie or tell me I don't understand. I deserve the truth."

He deserved that, and so much more. Maybe, more than Ellone could give.

"I'm not running," she said. "I just... I don't know how to stop."

Seifer's brows lowered and he shook his head.

"The hell does that mean?"

"I don't think I can just go to Esthar and settle down," she said. "I don't know how."

Seifer stared at her, his jaw clenched as if in anger, but Ellone didn't miss the flash of panic and fear in his face.

"So that's it?" he asked. "You didn't think this was something you could have talked to me about before you packed your bag and snuck out like a fucking coward?"

"You don't know what it's like," she said and gestured to the masts behind her. " _This_ is what I know. I don't know how to stay in one spot for long. I don't know how to trust that when I wake up tomorrow, everything I care about will still be there. I could go to Esthar with you, but what then?"

"I don't know, but we'll fucking figure it out!" he cried.

"You _don't_ know what it's like, Seifer," she repeated slowly. "I don't know _how_ to stop moving."

Seifer's anger dissolved and he took a step closer, took her face in his hands.

"You think I don't understand that?" he asked. "That I couldn't possibly know what it's like to be alone your whole goddamn life?"

Of course he did. What he didn't understand was a life spent in constant transition, of being uprooted time and time again, the scenery and cast changes, of waking up in a different place every day for too many years to count. It was in her blood, in her soul, and she couldn't shake it.

He cocked his head and dropped his hands to his side. Ellone turned toward the ocean and closed her eyes. Hyne, why was this so hard? She spent a lifetime avoiding this. Getting attached to people and places only hurt in the end.

"I'm not gonna beg," he said. "but fuck, Elle -"

"I can't go to Esthar with you," she blurted out. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Why not?"

A thousand reasons, _why not_. A thousand lies she could tell, excuses she could make, but he deserved the truth.

"The only good memory I have of that place is you," she said, "but there are so many bad ones, Seifer. Of Adel, and Odine and... The thought of being there for longer than I have to be... I just can't."

Seifer stepped up to the rail beside her and leaned his forearms against it. For half a minute, he stared out at the sea without speaking. In his silence, Ellone braced herself for one of his tantrums and thought about how right he was about running away. She was. From too many things, some beyond her control, and others choices she didn't want to make.

"Fuck it, then," Seifer said. "I'll quit my job, which I was gonna do anyway, pack my shit, you pick a place and we'll go. I don't care where, I don't care if we stay. Not Timber, though, because fuck Timber, but I'll go with you anywhere else. Anywhere, El."

"It's not that simple."

"It _is_ that simple," Seifer said. "Unless this really is about me and you're too much of a chicken-shit to admit it."'

Ellone spun on him, ready to fight, but he grinned, victorious and full of confidence.

"I don't care where we live, Elle," he said. "Just stop running."

* * *

Squall was nearly finished with the taxes and the last load of laundry was in the drier when the doorbell rang. He set aside his pen and eased to his feet, cane at the ready, and limped to the door. Everyone they knew walked right in, half the time without a knock of warning first, especially in Selphie's case, so it couldn't be a regular visitor.

Curious, Squall peered out the peephole and recognized the woman on the other side. Black dress as though in perpetual mourning, long unbound tresses streaked with gray. The only color about her were her bright green eyes.

Edea.

He hesitated as he put his hand on the door knob, conflicted about his feelings for her, now that Cid was dead and gone. There were a lot of questions about whether or not she knew, and if so, how much?

Did she leave Squall to suffer in order to save her own skin? Or was she duped, like the rest?

Not that Squall would ever sacrifice her to save himself. Even if he was advised of her location, he would not have given her up, even in the midst of the worst of it.

He opened the door and Edea gasped. One hand lifted to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears as she scanned him from head to toe.

For a second, Squall wondered why.

Then, he remembered what he looked like to those that knew him before.

Diminished. Wasted. Frail.

"Edea," he said evenly.

"Squall. You look..." she began, then shook her head. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," he said with a hint of humor. "I feel better than I look. Come in?"

He escorted her to the living room and offered her something to drink. She declined and took a moment to look around the room. Her gaze lingered on the nearest photo, of Stella with Ari in her lap, and she picked it up to inspect.

"They're beautiful," she said.

"They are," he agreed.

She set the photo down and stared at her lap.

"I'm so sorry, Squall," she said. "I feel like I'm to blame for this."

Squall shrugged and sat in the recliner, facing the window. Outside, the sky was a clear blue, no hint of clouds.

"I'm so angry with Cid," she said. "With the choices he made, with the way he... He wasn't always like that, Squall. He wasn't always so spineless. I don't know what happened... or why he chose to kill himself instead of face the consequences of his choices."

She didn't know. No one told her the truth, but why would they? She spent the last two years in hiding, so that she didn't become a victim herself. What little Squall knew of her part in it, communication with her was limited to Ellone, so that her location would stay a secret.

"He probably didn't," Squall said. "Or, if he did, it wasn't by choice."

Edea didn't understand, so Squall explained in the simplest terms he could, of what Thalia was and what she could do. She listened, but there was no relief in learning it was likely murder rather than self-inflicted.

"Be that as it may," Edea said. "I still blame him for what happened to you."

"As you should," Squall said. "But it's over, Edea."

"If I'd known, I would have -"

"Stop," he said. "It's over. It's done."

"But -"

"Wishing you could change it won't give me back the time I lost," he said. "It won't fix me, and I honestly don't want to hear your regrets, Edea. It's done."

Wounded, Edea nodded and wiped away her tears. Squall was unmoved, but only because he didn't have it in him to feel sorry for her. He was too tired for it, and too ready to move on to dwell on things that couldn't be changed. He would give anything to have that time back, to not be as he was now, but there was no point in wishing things were different.

"I'm not angry with you," he said. "You didn't do this, and I don't blame you for staying away. Better they only got one of us."

She wiped her eyes again and nodded. "I suppose you're right, but..."

"Stop," he said again, out of patience. "Just stop."

"Is there anything I can do now?" she asked. "Anything I can do to help?"

Squall was about to say no, but an idea occurred to him and he sat forward, his arms braced against his knees.

"Yes, actually. There is."

* * *

Rinoa stopped by the hospital to see Zell on her way home. Even if he wasn't awake, she could impart a little more healing magic to speed things along. The sooner he was back in his feet, the better.

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Dincht has requested there be no visitors," a beady-eyed nurse informed her at the desk.

"What?" Rinoa asked. "No, there must be some misunderstanding. I'm his best friend."

"No visitors. Sorry."

Rinoa stood at the desk and sized the woman up. She contemplated sneaking in anyway, attempting mind control, and even a fist fight before she decided it wasn't worth it. Zell must have his reasons, and Rinoa would respect them.

Even if she didn't like it.

He would come around in a day or two. Zell always needed time to himself after he got his feelings hurt or did something boneheaded. He would come around, and Rinoa would welcome him back without question.

But it still hurt to be turned away.

When she returned home, there was a suitcase in the hall. She blinked at it, inspected the old luggage tag from the ferry and frowned. Squall must have dug deep into the closet to find it.

Less concerned than confused, she called out his name.

He appeared in the doorway, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"You're home early."

"So I am," she said. "What's this doing here?"

"It's a surprise."

Rinoa cocked her head at him. "You don't do surprises."

Squall stepped forward and retrieved a few pieces of paper from his back pocket and placed them in her hands. She unfolded them, looked at the text and smiled.

A boarding pass for the ferry to Dollet. A hotel reservation. Tickets to see _I Want To Be Your Canary_.

"How romantic," she said. "What about the store?"

"Lance will cover in exchange for next week off, with pay," he said. "And Edea will take the kids for the night."

"Well that explains the swarms of children and White SeeDs in the store earlier," she said. "You spoke to her?"

Squall nodded. "We talked about Cid. There wasn't much to say."

Rinoa expected he might be angry with Edea, but she detected no malice or hard feelings. If she were honest, there was a part of her that blamed Edea for not coming forward when it was known she was a target, but she also knew Squall would never give her up to save himself, even if she did.

"So, any requests?" he asked.

Rinoa stepped closer and laid a hand against his chest. "You've thought of everything."

"I have," he said. "I made dinner reservations, too."

"Will there be dancing?"

"If you want," he said. "But don't expect much more than swaying. Not so light on my feet these days..."

Rinoa flung her arms around his neck, kissed his lips and marvled at how he loved her.

* * *

They said when people died, there was something on the other side. Some saw a white light at the end of a dark tunnel. Others said loved ones waited with open arms to welcome them home.

Zell didn't see anything. He didn't remember any white lights, and his Pa sure as hell wasn't there waiting to greet him.

Maybe all those near-death experiences and visions were a just bunch of bullshit. Nothing more than oxygen-starved brain cells and misfiring synapses and a bit of wishful thinking.

It was like slipping into a long, dreamless sleep. The last thing he remembered was the press of something cold to his stomach, Thalia's hands on his body, and Ellone's pale, frightened face in the dim, gray light.

It was like being asleep, but when he woke, he didn't feel rested.

Zell was a man who could take a sound beating and walk away with a smile on his face. Dr. Kadowaki once told him his pain threshold was exceptionally high, even for a martial artist...

_...the cadets drag him into the infirmary, a trail of blood in his wake. There are bites and rips in the skin of his hips and legs from the T-Rexaur that attempted to make Zell its next meal. He's dizzy and he can't feel his left foot – he's sure the T-rexaur bit it clean off – but he grins at the doctor as they dump him onto the exam table, all too familiar with this view and Dr. Kadowaki's disapproval._

" _Figured you missed me," Zell says. "It's been a whole week since you had to put me back together again."_

_Zell's medical file is as thick as his forearm and full of broken bones and lacerations and concussions. Dr. Kadowaki knows Zell's history intimately and has cared for him through all of it, from training accidents, his father's fists, and fights with bullies, to bouts of teenage stupidity and freak explosions._

" _If you want to visit me, an injury is not required beforehand," she says as she peels back the fabric of his torn cargo pants. "Great Hyne in Heaven, Zell! Did you stick your leg in a woodchipper?"_

_Zell laughs. "It was Mortimer."_

_Mortimer, the dastardly, dreaded T-rexaur Alpha. The most aggressive, most deadly creature in the training center, and he claims more lives per year than car accidents in Balamb._

" _I told Cid to get rid of that thing," Dr. Kadowaki says. "Or at least let some of the more experienced SeeDs destroy it... Though I see that may not be a viable solution."_

" _Aww, he got me when my back was turned," Zell says. "The coward. I coulda taken him if he hadn't pulled an Almasy on me. Dirty-fighting lowlife reptile..."_

_It hurts. A lot. Especially when she starts to poke and prod at it with instruments, but he grits his teeth and doesn't complain. Local anesthetics do not work on Zell, so she stitches his wounds without them. He feels the needle go in, and the needle come out, needle in, needle out, for the next thirty minutes._

" _How does that feel?" she asks as she strips off her gloves. "Better?"_

" _Better," he agrees. "Glad it didn't take off my foot. I can feel my toes again."_

" _You know, in all my years, I've never had anyone brought in here all shredded up like this still be able to hold a conversation," Dr. Kadowaki says. "Your pain threshold is exceptional."_

" _A'least there's something exceptional 'bout me," he says. "Can't say anyone's called me that before."_

" _That's not a compliment, Zell," she says. "It means your body isn't telling you when you're badly injured. Pain is a message, and if you're not getting that message, it would be very easy for you to sustain a mortal injury and not know it. From now on, I want you to pay close attention to your wounds. I'd hate to see you die of a treatable injury, Zell..."_

Zell knew how to take pain.

But this?

Whatever this was, he wished he was dead.

Everything hurt, his throat and his midsection in particular. There was something in his mouth and a mechanical hiss as some machine forced air into his lungs. He couldn't swallow without pain. He tried to sit up and remove whatever it was but it was as if his limbs were weighed down with bricks and boulders.

He peeled his eyes open and took in what he could see with such a limited ability to move. Stark white walls. Fluorescent lighting.

Rinoa sat to his left, Ari in her lap.

_That wasn't you. It was just a dream._

He couldn't remember why he was here, but he remembered _that_. Then, he remembered what came after and turned his face to the ceiling, unable to look at her.

_I'm an idiot. Hyne, I'm such an idiot._

Rinoa began to talk. He only heard pieces of what she said.

And he slept.

When he woke, the tube in his mouth was gone, but the pain was still there and he wept through the worst of it, quietly, alone, and careful not to sob because that only make it worse. When he could speak again, he asked the doctors not to admit any visitors. He wasn't ready to face them.

They told him he died twice, that Rinoa saved him, but he was too ashamed of the things he couldn't talk about or admit to. He owed her his thanks and gratitude, and Squall an apology, but he didn't think he would ever be able to see either of them ever again without feeling like a world-class tool.

Three days after he was hospitalized, Zell checked himself out before Selphie came to get him. He lied to the desk nurse and swore his ride was in the lot outside, and walked home as the sun came up.

The morning was unseasonably warm and humid, but Zell didn't miss the cold. He welcomed the warmth as much as he welcomed the scent of the ocean on the breeze and the sun on his skin.

He took it slow. His wounds were healed, but the pain lingered. Every step jolted his insides.

At the house, he went straight upstairs to the bathroom to wash the hospital smell off his skin. The bathroom mirror was broken and Zell couldn't remember when that happened, but it looked like someone punched it. Maybe he did it himself and just didn't know. Seemed like something he would do.

His reflection was splintered and he didn't recognize the pale face staring back at him.

Who was he? Why was he still here?

He died twice, but there was no joy in the gift he'd been given.

_I'm an asshole._

He showered, changed into comfortable pajamas and climbed into bed, where he planned to stay indefinitely. He would shut out the rest of the world for a while and take comfort in the knowledge that Thalia Blackheart was dead, even if he couldn't take comfort in being alive.

Zell could shut out the world, but he couldn't shut off his brain. He closed his eyes, but he memory of what didn't actually happen in this bed unsettled him. Dream or no, his willingness to make his best friend a cuckold was sickening. He swore he could still smell her perfume on the pillow.

None of it was real, and now that he was days removed from it, it seemed more like a dream than reality. But the horror of that violation, of being duped, whether awake or dreaming, was very, very real. It turned his stomach, and he shot up from the mattress, sure he would never sleep in this bed again.

He fled to the kitchen, retrieved a bottle of Sylkis from the cabinet and poured a measure into a coffee mug. He swallowed the whole thing down in one go and poured another.

Nothing that woman did to him compared to the crime he committed against his friends. No pain compared to the memory of his fists pummeling a man who could not fight back.

As he poured a third drink, there came a soft knock on his front door. Too quiet to be Selphie, too hesitant to be Rinoa. He expected Ellone, but when he opened it, Edea waited on the step.

"Matron."

"Can I come in?" she asked.

"Um, yeah," he said and pushed a hand through his still damp hair. "I was just gonna, you know, make coffee. And breakfast. Want some?"

"The coffee, yes," she said. "But I already ate on the ship, so I'll pass on breakfast."

Zell cleaned the grounds from the filter and dumped the old coffee from the pot. He gave both a good rinse, filled the machine and started it. In seconds, the room filled with the delicious scent and it cleared some of the dust from his mind.

Edea took a seat at the table and scrutinized him the same way his Ma used to.

"How are you, Zell?"

"Been better," he admitted.

Of all the kids, Zell was the least acquainted with Edea. Over the years, their paths crossed only a handful of times and their interactions were limited to pleasantries. Maybe it was because of Ma that he was less inclined to see Edea as a mother-figure than the others. He liked her, and he respected her for her devotion to the orphans in her care, but in his few memories of her, her time was too divided among them for him to know her as more than as a kind caregiver.

"So I understand," she said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Naw," he said as he took a pair of mugs from the dish rack by the sink. "I just need some time to sort myself out. I'll be all right."

He poured the coffee and retrieved cream from the fridge and set it on the table next to the sugar.

"Maybe I need some time away," he said as the thought occurred to him. "You know, maybe a change of scenery would be good for me. Help me clear my head."

"Sometimes distance from the problem helps give you perspective," she agreed. She spooned two sugars into her mug and stirred it. "Assuming, it's not a means to avoid the problem."

"Well, there's lots I don't want to think about," he said. "But I'm not running, I just need... To not be here for a while. I did some stuff I'm not real proud of..."

Edea was quiet, thoughtful. She sipped the coffee and peered at him, and he was further reminded of his Ma. Hyne, how he missed her.

"We're headed for FH to drop a couple passengers, and then to the Cape," she said. "You're welcome to join us, Zell."

"I wasn't fishing for an invitation or anything," he said, taken aback by her offer. "I'm just, you know, thinking out loud."

"You're still welcome," she said. "It might not suit you, being stuck on a ship for weeks at a time, but it's never boring. I think the kids will like you."

Zell sat back in his chair and seriously considered it. It wasn't what he had in mind, but the appeal of an ocean voyage was hard to ignore.

"I could teach them some stuff," Zell said. "And I'm pretty good at fixing things, so if you need any repair work done, I'm handy with a tool box."

Edea beamed at him and Zell was surprised into returning her smile.

"Then it's settled," she said. "We set sail at nine tomorrow morning. Be sure to pack rain gear. Centra is infamous for storms this time of year. And bring plenty of reading material."

* * *

The fight was over, but there was still work to be done.

Seifer stood at the stern of the White SeeD ship and watched the coastline of Balamb recede as the voices of too many kids rose up behind him. They were headed for FH, where Seifer and a small team of Estharian Special Forces would raid the Shumi Accountant's home and apprehend him if he was still there. If the Shumi possessed a lick of sense, he would evaporate faster than a raindrop on hot pavement.

The others, Thalia's collection of failed SeeDs and mercs were in Estharian custody. It came as no surprise that many of them believed they were in the midst of a bloody war against tyranny or oppression or even SeeD itself. Thalia's passing left them confused and unclear about their goals and reasons for following her.

The dead woman they found in Cid's office was a transient as far as anyone could tell. Though Zell initially identified her as one of Rinoa's employees, the real Melane was alive and well and reported for her shift the next morning.

Just another torment, just another fraud.

There were a lot of questions in the wake of Thalia's demise, things that no one would ever be able to answer. The only person that could answer them was dead, and the one closest to her wasn't talking.

It didn't matter. The threat was gone.

He turned away when the land disappeared over the horizon and waded through the groups of children until he reached the stairs to below deck. The galley was deserted, save Zell, who sat before a spread of machine parts Seifer could not name if he tried. Zell looked up when Seifer entered and sneered, but returned his attention to his task without comment.

"No need to be hostile," Seifer said as he took a seat. "I'm one of the reasons you're still alive."

"What, do you want a medal?"

"A _thank you_ would be nice, but don't trouble yourself," he said.

Zell's eyes flashed and his lips pressed into a thin line.

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to say... Thanks," Seifer said. The word almost got stuck in his throat. Gratitude was almost as hard as an apology in Seifer's book. "You didn't have to, you know, so thanks."

"Thanks for what?"

Zell's dropped his screwdriver as curiosity got the best of him.

"For being a dumbass," Seifer said with a little smile. "You didn't have to offer yourself up as a sacrifice to save her, you know. You're an idiot, and I don't do that martyr crap, but I respect your reasons, even if they were stupid."

"I'm not sure if there was a compliment in there somewhere, or..."

Seifer chuckled. "It's the best you're gonna get from me."

"Oh. Well. You're welcome. I guess."

Seifer drummed his fingers on the tabletop and took in Zell's posture and his morose expression. Whatever Thalia did to him, it showed.

"So. You runnin' away from home?"

Zell shook his head, then added, "Not that it's any of your business."

Seifer was tempted to make a snide remark, but found himself unusually empathetic to Zell's plight. After all, he witnessed the aftermath of what she did to Squall, and to Ellone. Even in a short time, the woman left scars.

"Yeah, well, just remember, all that stuff wasn't real."

"That's the problem," Zell said and picked up the screwdriver again. "Maybe, I saw stuff I really, really wanted and figured out what an asshole I am for wanting it."

Seifer snorted, again tempted to go for a sarcastic comment, but he held back because he knew what that felt like.

"Yeah," Seifer said, "well, nobody's perfect."

Zell returned to his work and Seifer left him with one last glance over his shoulder. Whatever demons Zell struggled with, eventually, it would get easier. The things he wanted would change in time and he would look back and wonder why he ever wanted them in the first place. He would let go of dreams and find new ones, just like everyone else.

Up on deck, the children sat in a haphazard semi-circle, listening to a story with rapt attention. Seifer stood back and watched with a half-smile as he remembered the days when Edea would read to them back at the orphanage. The story and storyteller were different, but for a minute, he swore he could smell woodsmoke and Edea's heady perfume and hear Ellone's quiet scolding to sit still and pay attention as Squall clung to her neck and hid his face at the scary parts.

She looked up from the book in her hands and smiled when she met his gaze. He listened this time, almost as rapt as the children, not by the story, but by her and all the different facets of who she was and all the things about her only he got to see.

When the story finished, she set the book aside and smiled at the kids as they all talked at once about the tale she told.

"Mr. Seifer, will you read to us next?" a small freckled child asked.

"No," he said.

The kid didn't agree with that answer and took hold of Seifer's hand and tugged on it.

"Please?" the kid asked. "Pretty please? With moogles on top?"

"Get off me, kid," Seifer said. "Ask Elle. Maybe she'll read another."

"I don't know," Ellone said. "I think _Mister_ Seifer would really enjoy reading you a story."

"Yeah! Read to us. Please?"

He couldn't say no to all those hopeful faces. He was an asshole, but he couldn't live with their disappointment on his conscience.

Seifer glowered at Ellone's arch look and stalked over to the pile of books beside her, snatched one up and opened it.

" _Chocolina Ballerina_..." he read, and the kids cheered.  "Goddamn it."

"Ooooh, that's a baaaaad word!"

Seifer glared at the kids. 

"You want me to read it or not?" he asked.

"Yes!" they said in unison.

"Then shut up and sit still."

He sat down on the deck beside Ellone, leaned toward her and murmured, "You will pay for this."  


"If you say so. Sucker."

It was a lie. She would pay for nothing.

Anything she asked. Anything she wanted. Wherever she went.

Seifer would follow.


	28. Chapter 28

* * *

28

* * *

When the White SeeD ship docked in FH, Zell said his goodbyes to Ellone with a hug and a muttered thanks for coming to his rescue. Behind her, Seifer watched without so much as a hint of his usual smugness. Zell pretended Ellone's pity didn't sting.

He gave her the keys to his house before they disembarked, in case she needed a place to stay.

"Give 'em to Selphie if you don't plan to stick around Balamb," he said. "Tell her to look in on the place every now and then, okay? And tell Seifer stay out of my room if he knows what's good for him."

"I'm right here, chicken-head. You can say that to my face."

Zell wasn't in the mood to fight. "Just don't touch my stuff."

Seifer opened his mouth to retort, but Ellone's glance shut him down.

She certainly had him wrapped around her finger, didn't she? Zell never thought he'd see the day when Seifer deferred to anyone.

"What about the Garage?" Ellone asked.

"Guy I know's gonna take care of it for now," he said.

Ellone laid her hand against his arm and Zell stared at the healed, but still pink scar across her cheek. That, too, was his fault.

"You take care of yourself, Zell," she said. "Relax. Get some rest."

"You too," he said. "And don't let Seifer boss you around."

"Me? She's the bossy one," Seifer scoffed.

"Assertive," she said. "Not bossy."

They bickered all the way down the gangplank, and Zell waved when Ellone turned around and lifted her hand. Beside him, the children lined up along the side to wave back.

An hour later, they were headed out to sea, and Zell's stomach fluttered in anticipation of the days to come. It wasn't a vacation – there would be plenty of work to keep him occupied, and that was exactly what he needed. A distraction.

And boy, did Edea keep him busy. The ship needed a lot of minor repairs, and there was always something to do.

In the mornings, he trained with the White SeeDs and helped Matron with breakfast. He fixed the ancient stove in the galley and re-wired the navigation console, repaired the bilge pump when it failed, and repainted and sealed the deck. In between, he rough-housed with the kids and read them stories and taught them basic martial arts forms.

In the evenings, he played cards or read in his bunk. He tore through his small stack of paperbacks one by one and when he ran out of things to read, he borrowed from the White SeeDs or from Matron. Anything to fill the time, anything to keep his mind occupied and clear of thoughts about the mess he left behind.

There were nightmares the first couple of weeks. Dreams where he not only beat Squall, but killed him, and he woke, drenched in sweat and convinced he'd murdered his best friend.

On those nights, when he couldn't fall back asleep, he would go up to the deck and watch the stars. Out here, with no city lights to pollute the view, there were too many to count. If he looked too long, his wonder turned to despair, to certainty that he was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He was a speck of dust in comparison to the vastness beyond, not even a location on the world map. In the long run, he would not matter.

These nights were the hardest, when there was too much time to think, and no distraction to keep him from beating himself up.

Thalia wasn't wrong. It was the _idea_ of family he loved. He craved it so desperately, it hurt.

Rinoa and the kids were a ready-made version, one that partially satisfied that need without bothering to try, but they weren't _his_ family. They didn't belong to him, and they never would.

More importantly, he didn't belong to them.

He supposed he should count his blessings. He couldn't even imagine what might have happened if Squall was gone long enough for Zell to claim them as his own. That kind of heartbreak was too gross to even think about. If Rinoa was asked to choose between them, Zell would not be the guy she picked in the end. He knew that all along, but he was so desperate to belong to someone, he got lazy.

This truth stung, but better to accept it than continue lying to himself.

And none of that was the real problem. Thalia's illusions revealed to Zell a side of himself he always feared – that he was like his Pa. Deep down, he knew of his own potential to be abusive, whether learned from years of being the victim of an abuser, or not. His temper, once piqued, was nasty and violent, and sometimes it was difficult to tell when he crossed a line until it was too late.

The years of being a SeeD didn't help. His Pa's fists hurt, but the man never struck him with intent to kill. Zell knew how to do that. It was so easy. _Too_ easy. And if he hadn't checked himself, Squall might be dead at his hands.

In the days that followed this revelation, Zell stayed away from everyone. He didn't eat, barely slept, and got out of bed only to complete his daily self-assigned maintenance chores. The rest of the time, he stayed in his bunk and brooded.

Edea left him alone at first, but after days of hiding in his bunk, she visited him one night with an offering of fresh baked cinnamon rolls and a glass of milk. It smelled delicious, but his stomach recoiled at the thought of food.

"You need to eat something, Zell," she said. "You've barely eaten anything in days."

"Not feeling well."

"I gathered that, but I don't think it's because you're sea-sick," she said. "You don't have to tell me what's bothering you, but you need to eat."

To pacify her, he accepted one of the rolls and the milk. His appetite was gone, and he barely tasted it as he choked it down, but some of the heaviness in his limbs lifted when the much needed calories hit his system.

As he set the empty plate on the table, Zell burst into tears. He wept quietly but intensely and then spilled his guts to Edea.

He told her everything.

He needed to hear that he wasn't a piece of crap, that his motives were pure and only borne out of a need to protect someone he loved, but then he killed that possibility when he admitted the one thing he avoided admitting all along, even to himself.

"I was _so_ glad he came home, even as messed up as he was," he said, "but then I saw the way he wouldn't look at her or Ari, and it was like he didn't appreciate how blessed he was... And the way he looked at me. Like he hated me, and I sort of wished he never came back."

He broke down and sniffled into his palms. Edea said nothing.

"I know it wasn't his fault," he said. "A part of me knew he would never hurt her, but I was so pissed about everything, I couldn't stop myself."

Edea rubbed his back, they way she used to when they were kids and Seifer did something to upset him. The way his Ma used to do after his Pa knocked him around or when he woke from a bad dream.

"I hate myself for that," he said. "I'm such a damn selfish prick... Sorry, _jerk_ , I don't even deserve to be their friend. I don't deserve to be with anyone."

"I don't think that's true, Zell," she said. "I think you're being a lot harder on yourself than you need to be. Isn't it possible your feelings and choices were manipulated in the same way Squall's were? That your actions were colored by what she made you believe?"

She stroked Zell's cheek and pinched his chin like he was still three. He wasn't even mad about it.

"It's possible, I guess," he said. "But she couldn't have pushed me into it if it wasn't already there to begin with."

"True," Edea said. "But I doubt you would have laid a hand on Squall if she left you alone to work through it on your own."

Maybe this was true. Maybe those stupid fantasies of making their family his own were just a warped version of the truth, something Thalia put in his head and he never knew the difference.

Or maybe, that was only what he wanted to believe so he didn't feel so bad about himself for his behavior. His romantic attachment to Rinoa might be fading, and his reasons for the attack less clear two weeks removed from them, but that did not change what happened.

"If you really fear there's a part of you that could potentially hurt a loved one out of anger, then you need to deal with that before you can move on. It isn't enough to acknowledge there's an issue."

"How do I do that?" he wondered.

"Well, I suppose you need to do the work and learn to manage your anger so that the next time a situation like that presents itself, you don't react with violence or do something you can never take back," Edea said. "If it helps, see a therapist. There's no shame in it, if that's what works."

Therapy was a sensitive topic for most SeeDs. Aside from going to Dr. K to vent over a cup of tea, it was an unspoken thing that if you wanted to make rank or get promoted, you suffered in silence. It wasn't something Squall himself condoned, though he too was adverse to help, but the board was known for denying advancement to those with visits to a therapist on their record beyond those required for debriefing. Other SeeDs could be just as cut-throat about it and viewed it as an admission of weakness – a sign one was a risk and not fit for duty.

Which was messed up, because at some point in their careers, every single SeeD Zell knew could have used it. They all suffered from nightmares and from the ill-effects of bad missions. They all saw things that were too awful to forget and startled awake at night from the softest of sounds, fearful of attack. Every one of them suffered trauma, whether physical and emotional, and while it was perfectly fine to treat the physical wounds, it was frowned upon to treat the psychological ones.

"You have a lot of love to give, Zell," Edea said. "Don't sell yourself short just because she was able to use your feelings and your past against you. I don't believe that's who you truly are, no matter how poorly you perceive yourself as a result."

Zell could not agree with her, and he didn't know how he would face them when he finally went home. Not that he planned on that any time soon.

"They'll forgive you, Zell," Edea said. "I'd bet money on it."

Zell wasn't so sure.

* * *

Ellone participated only peripherally in the raid on Accountant's shack in FH. She was on-hand for identification purposes, and outfitted for combat but was she was not among the first to enter the scene.

It wasn't even necessary in the end.

The Shumi was long dead, by more than a year if the coroner's estimation was correct. His corpse, or what was left of it, lay on the mattress, shriveled and shrunken, barely more than bones.

Ellone stared at the remains, unsurprised and unmoved by all the ways Thalia duped them.

Once the body was removed, the house was searched from top to bottom. There were hundreds of childish drawings done in crayon, similar to the ones they found aboard Squall's floating prison. Ellone sifted through the sketches of spiders and sharp-toothed monsters with a heavy heart, but found nothing new or surprising among them, just more evidence of a lost and confused child trapped inside the body of a woman driven mad by her own power.

She should have known better than to find closure here.

Beneath the floorboards, they found bundled stacks of Gil and other items of value. Gemstones and jewelry, deeds to property, weapons, detailed floor plans for government buildings, hotels and shopping centers – all were carefully sorted and stashed, for what purpose, Ellone did not want to imagine. Thalia did things because she could get away with it, but also because of the false war she believed she fought against the rest of the world.

They found more cash in the walls – so much it boggled the mind – and Ellone was no longer able to stay and watch them rip the place apart.

She crossed the marketplace in front of the train station, where a crowd of citizens gathered to whisper among themselves as Estharian soldiers loaded the stolen cash into an armored vehicle. This was a win, but for Ellone, this victory fell flat.

For a while, she wandered the streets until she found herself above the disk and sat down on the steps. The day was cool, but the sunlight reflected off the panels and warmed her as she thought about where to go from here, now that the job was all but finished.

Returning to the White SeeD ship was no longer an option. Laguna planned to buy a house in Balamb, now that his retirement was official. Ellone could stay in Balamb too, at Zell's place, if she wanted, but that was temporary. Eventually, she would need to choose a path and commit to it, but what did someone without a home or a purpose do with themselves?

"You could teach," Seifer said from behind her. "You're good with kids."

He sat on the step next to her and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

"Is it finished?" she asked.

"More or less," he said. "Don't avoid the subject."

"How do you find your place in the world if you never had one to begin with?"

"You already have one, El," he said. "It's just different. You don't need to be like everyone else, because you're not."

"That's not comforting," she said.

"Well, I'm not going to lie to you," he said. "Maybe for you, that place is wherever you happen to be at the time, doing whatever it is you happen to be doing."

Ellone considered that for a minute.

"Did you enjoy doing Esthar's dirty work?" she wondered.

"Mostly," he said. "I was good at it."

Ellone lapsed into silence and stared at the lines in her palms. She wondered what fortune lay there, in the whorls and creases, what future awaited her. Up until now, she existed without purpose or direction and the thought of moving forward, of finding solid ground was both enticing and daunting.

"One day at a time, El. You don't need to decide your whole damn future right now," he said. "But you do need to decide on where we're going to spend our vacation. You've put it off long enough."

Ellone looked out at the town below the disk, and at the ships and boats in the distance, at the people on the docks.

"Here is as good a place as any," she said.

"Here?" Seifer asked. "Of all the places in the world, you want to stay here?"

"Why not?" she asked. "We could rent paddle boats and I'll teach you to fish the right way, and how to sail. We'll eat oysters drink beer and I can get to know your friends a little better."

Seifer leaned over and kissed her temple.

"We're not staying in that hotel again," he said. "We'll find somewhere where the room doesn't come with cockroaches, sand in the bed, and potential fungal infections."

"It does leave something to be desired."

"I'm not eating oysters, though."

"Oysters are delicious," Ellone said. "What's wrong with you?"

"It's like swallowing snot," he said. "No thanks. And since when do you drink beer?"

"I drink beer every now and then," she said. "Just, not as a competitive sport."

Seifer threw an arm around her shoulders. "So no keg stands, huh?"

"Unlikely," she said. "But knock yourself out."

He laughed, brought her tighter against his side and she dropped her head against his shoulder.

"So, tell me, now that all this is over," she said, "was it you or Thalia who dumped Dr. Odine in the desert?"

His laugh turned into a cackle and his smile was full of mischief.

"Me," Seifer said. "She would have killed him."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I know you wouldn't want me to," he said and his smile fell away. "But, maybe what I did, he'll remember the next time he thinks about testing a little kid's pain threshold, if you get my drift."

Ellone could picture it. Perhaps Seifer used Odine's tests and simulations against him for a while, made him bleed a little, then dropped him off somewhere to fend for himself. She should have been angry about that, but she didn't care. Odine, and his questionable ethics, was in the past and she was ambivalent about what happened to him, whether on her behalf or not.

"I didn't ask you to do that."

He cackled again and turned his face to the sun, and cast a smug sideways glance at her.

"He had it coming," Seifer said., then his expression darkened. "I read the files. I know what he did."

He knew some of it. What was on paper in Thalia's files, it didn't compare to the experience, but she imagined some of the childhood training he received wasn't so different with the exception of their differing levels of agency. He was given the tools to fight back, Ellone was not, and it only occurred to her then that maybe some of his animosity toward Odine was rooted in his own experiences during childhood. Even with combat training, much of it would look abusive from the outside.

"Are you pissed?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Just wondering what kind of world we live in that we need people like Odine and places like Garden. How we got to a place where that kind of thing is normal."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But, if I've learned anything over the years, there's stuff that makes it worth sticking around for, even when you're as messed up as we are."

"Such as?"

"I don't know, little things. Good whiskey. People who get you. Washing the blood off after a battle," he said and paused to rest his chin against the top of her head. "Those times when you can forget for a few minutes how fucked up this world really is."

He lapsed into silence and combed his fingers through her hair, his eyes focused on something far away, lost in thought or reliving some seldom-visited memory.

"I could go for a burger right now," he said after a few minutes. "Why don't we go grab some lunch at that cafe by the docks? Have a few beers and maybe find a place to stay that doesn't have a few thousand roommates."

They chose a small, one-room house near the docks to rent and paid for two weeks with the option to extend if they wanted to stay longer. It wasn't much, even by Ellone's standards, but it was clean and had a view of the sea. They bought groceries from the market, and on the nights when they stayed in, Seifer cooked meals too fancy for the tiny kitchen and unadorned table.

Ellone taught him to sail on a small, rented sailboat, and showed him the proper way to fish, something Seifer proved he didn't possess any patience for. Those days, in spite of Seifer's ill-temper when the fish didn't magically hurl themselves upon the deck, Ellone's itch to run was eased.

The days when they stayed on land, she got to know Fujin and Raijin. They were easy to love, especially Raijin, who was essentially a walking cardiac muscle, but she developed a particular fondness for Fujin. Her abruptness could be easily mistaken for hostility, but time spent with her revealed there was a kind, if not broken, soul beneath the veneer.

Some afternoons, Ellone accompanied Fujin on near-silent scavenging trips for interesting bits of refuse Fujin used to make jewelry to sell in the shop. Metal washers, screws, broken glass and pottery, links of rusty chain were collected and put to a new purpose at a small table in the apartment Fujin shared with Raijin. Ellone liked to watch her create the pieces, almost envious of how well Fujin knew her tools and of her talent for turning actual junk into something beautiful.

Time spent in their company also revealed a complex and sincere love between the two. It was a strictly platonic relationship as both parties made clear, but no less beautiful or genuine in Ellone's eyes than any other partnership she'd witnessed over the years, and tender in its own way. The two looked out for one another, took care of one another. They shared meals and occasionally roughhoused in a playful way, and there were times Ellone noticed the unspoken communications between them, as if they shared the same kind of connection Ellone allowed with Seifer.

At the end of their two weeks, it was hard to say goodbye to them, but it was time to move on. Ellone expected and accepted Raijin's fierce hug and promised to keep Seifer out of trouble and another visit in the near future.

What she didn't expect was Fujin's parting hug, or the gift she thrust into Ellone's hand as she stepped away. Earrings, made of a pair of screws with all the sharp edges filed down and elongated and twisted into a neat spiral adorned with pale green glass beads.

Ellone slipped the hooks into her ears and admired the gift in the small mirror next to the register in the shop. She'd joked with Seifer about wanting jewelry, but in truth, no one had ever given her any.

"These are beautiful," Ellone said. "Thank you."

Fujin eyed the earrings critically and gave a curt nod.

"PRETTY," she declared.

"I think so too," Ellone agreed. "They're perfect."

"Damn, Fu," Seifer said. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to steal my girl. Way to one-up me."

Fujin kicked him. "STUPID."

Seifer rubbed his wounded shin and smirked at his old friend, but retaliated with a gentle squeeze on the shoulder in lieu of a hug.

Once their goodbyes were said, they lugged their respective bags to the docks, where Ellone expected to board a charter bound for Balamb, but instead, Seifer led her to a small sailboat. His smile was smug and secretive as he took her bag from her and guided her onto the craft.

"Think we can make it to Balamb on this thing?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. "But why?"

Seifer didn't answer and took her by the hand. She followed him below deck and into a small but comfortable living space with a tiny kitchen. Fore and aft were berths. If they were headed to Balamb, there was no need to care about these spaces and Ellone turned to Seifer, confused about what he must have planned without her knowledge.

He rubbed the back of his neck, and cast his eyes around the room – everywhere but at Ellone.

"Seifer?"

"You know how you said you couldn't imagine staying in one place for long?" he asked.

Ellone nodded.

"Well, I thought maybe I'd get us a place that didn't have to stay in one spot if we didn't want it to."

"...so you bought us a boat?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yep."

Ellone burst into tears. It was the compromise she never knew she needed.

"Goddamnit, don't cry," Seifer huffed. "How am I supposed to know if you're happy or pissed?"

She laughed through her tears and threw her arms around his waist.

"This answer your question?"

* * *

Squall fell into an easy rhythm after his first chaotic day as a homemaker. He didn't expect it to be easy, and it wasn't, but once he divided his day into segments and devised a plan of attack for the daily chores, it got easier and he was better able to focus on the kids, his rehabilitation, and his still-uncertain relationship with Rinoa.

They didn't fight, and it wasn't lack of love that interfered, but the traumas that lingered well after Thalia Blackheart's death. Some days were better than others, and it was easy to put aside his doubts and believe it was really and truly over. Other days, it crept up on him, sometimes without reason, and paranoia would set in. He would see her reflection in the window or hear her cruel laughter from the televisions set in the living room or his skin would crawl as though he was set upon by a thousand spiders all at once.

In those moments, it was tough to convince himself it wasn't real, that he wasn't going to wake up to find himself still locked away, sick, starving, and half-mad with untreated wounds and broken bones and no hope of escape. He choked on it, found it difficult to breathe, and it would paralyze him with fear for minutes or hours without warning.

His nights were often troubled by dreams and doubts and insomnia, and not even the comfort of Rinoa's arms could chase it away. Thalia might be gone, but a part of her stayed behind in his consciousness, and there wasn't much he could do to erase her. Sometimes, he stared at Rinoa while she slept, convinced she would turn into someone else.

The tediousness of housework helped. If he couldn't control his off-kilter mind, he could control his environment. Laundry folding and lawn maintenance were things he didn't like or dislike before, but now they served as therapy and it gave him comfort to fold towels into crisp squares and cut the blades of grass in the yard to a neat, uniform length.

Day by day, the worst of it faded. Through daily strength training and a healthy, protein-rich diet, his weakened body grew stronger and his ribs and hips bones no longer showed so prominently. His clothing fit better, and the face he saw in the mirror every morning looked more and more like the man he once was.

He became less and less reliant on his cane to walk, but there were days when the weather was cool and his leg ached and his limp heavy enough that he didn't discard it completely. He came to terms with the fact that he would probably always need it.

There were still moments of intense and irrational fear, but they grew fewer and shorter in duration, though the dreams persisted and he woke at least twice a week covered in sweat and with a scream in his throat.

But he loved his life, as it was. He loved his family. Without SeeD to interfere, he devoted all his energy to them. It wasn't always easy, especially when both kids came down with colds at the same time and were hot and sick and cranky, but he wouldn't trade his time with them for anything.

Laguna bought a house near the beach, and he was around almost more than Squall could stand. That, he wouldn't trade either. Laguna could be annoying, he could be a giant, overgrown kid when he wanted to be, and they never talked about the really important things, but as the weeks rolled into months, Squall never felt closer to his father, nor so grateful for his presence.

Ellone was around more often than not, almost always with Seifer at her side. He expected the relationship to fizzle after a while, but he would have to be blind not to see there was a strong bond between them. He also would have been blind not to notice which one wore the metaphorical pants in the relationship, and it sure as hell wasn't Seifer.

It might have rankled to think about them together, but every time they visited, Squall pictured his sister leading his former rival around on a jewel-studded leash, and his irritation turned to smug glee at the thought of Seifer secured squarely under Ellone's thumb.

He met the pair and his father for lunch one afternoon, where Laguna was all but giddy with some secret he could barely hold in. For a second, Squall suspected it involved Seifer and Ellone and some ill-thought-out elopement or some such thing, but Ellone wore no ring and neither seemed to be in on Laguna's excitement. He could barely sit still as the waitress took their drink and meal orders.

"I'm going to run for President," Laguna declared, once the waitress walked away.

Nonplussed, Squall said, "Of what country?"

It would be typical of his father to buy a house and then change his plans on a whim.

"Balamb, of course."

"Balamb doesn't have a President," Squall said. "Just a Mayor."

"President, Mayor," Laguna said. "Whatever! I'm going to run! Local elections are in six months, so we have a lot of work to do."

Squall exchanged a glance with Ellone. She rolled her eyes and propped her chin on the heel of her hand to peer at Laguna.

"We?" she asked. "What do you mean, _we_?"

He pointed to Seifer. "Muscle." Then, he pointed to Squall. "Brains." Then to Ellone. "Vice President."

"Why do you get to be VP?" Seifer complained and elbowed Ellone in the ribs.

"If you have to ask..." Ellone teased.

Seifer swatted her arm lightly and she swatted back.

Still baffled by Laguna's announcement, Squall said nothing.

"I thought you were enjoying retirement," Ellone said. "Now you want to jump back in the fray?"

"Comparing Balamb and Esthar is like comparing chocobos to donkeys," Laguna said. "They're not even the same flavor."

Squall choked on a laugh and caught Ellone's eye again. Her smile was knowing. Same old Laguna. He never changed.

"So, Squall, are you in?" Laguna asked.

"Thanks," Squall said, "but I have to decline. Let Almasy have a chance to be the brains for a change."

"Gee, that's mighty nice of you, Leonhart," Seifer said, "but I think I'll pass. I prefer it when people underestimate my intelligence. More fun that way."

Ellone snorted and Seifer clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Pipe down, peanut gallery," he said. "I'll have none of your sass today."

"Mummurfubbr!"

"If she just said what I think she said, you two are spending way too much time together," Squall said.

"It's a pet name, right El?"

Squall rolled his eyes as Seifer released his grip on her mouth and grinned that love-struck puppy grin at her.

Gross.

"Can we focus?" Laguna said as he deliberately refrained from looking at Ellone or Seifer. "Come on, guys! It'll be fun."

"Nepotism," Squall said. "Time away from my family. Political exposure. No, thanks. You're on your own."

"Way to kill my dream, son."

"Your dream is to be Mayor of Balamb?" Squall asked. "How long have you had this dream? Five minutes?"

"Dream might be the wrong word," Laguna conceded. "But people like me for some reason, and I did a lot of good for Esthar, even when I didn't know what I was doing. I think I can do some good for Balamb, too. Starting with the old Garden building. I wanna turn it into a school, where kids can learn Estharian technology and make cool stuff. I think that would be great for Balamb's economy, don't you? It'll bring back some of the revenue lost when Garden closed."

It wasn't the worst idea Laguna ever came up with. Noble and idealistic, but not terrible.

"Anyway, if you don't want to be on my staff, maybe you could teach," Laguna said. "Or at least let me pick your brain about a school operates."

Once his father got something in his head, there was no stopping him. Squall consented to discuss the particulars some other time, but declined Laguna's second campaign to join his team. Better Squall stay at home, where he belonged. His days in the limelight were done, and good riddance.

After lunch, he picked Ari up from daycare, where he went two days a week to give Squall time for larger projects where he might not be able to supervise Ari's activities. He checked the mail on his way into the house and found a postcard from some small port in the south of Galbadia.

It was from Zell.

If Squall had any lingering regrets, it was the way things ended with him. Zell left town without giving Squall the chance to discuss it, and there were a lot of things Squall wanted to say. Maybe, if he'd been able to, Zell would still be around.

He peered at the picturesque little harbor on the front of the card and turned it over again to read the message scrawled in Zell's sloppy handwriting.

_Hope all is well. Give my love to Ari and Ella._

_-Z_

Squall smiled at the card and held it up for Ari to see.

"It's from your Uncle Zell," Squall said. "He misses you."

"Unka Dood?"

"Unka Dood," Squall confirmed.

"Dood go bye," Ari said in such a sad voice, Squall empathized.

"He'll come back," Squall said. "He'll come back."

Squall hoped it wasn't a lie.

* * *

Zell adjusted the tuning on his guitar and strummed the chords of the Alphabet Song as a gaggle of kids settled in around him. He was no virtuoso and knew only a few chords, and his singing voice was on the reedy side, but he could carry a tune. The kids didn't seem to notice his shortcomings as a musician, anyway. They were happy enough to have his attention.

They sang along and clapped to the rhythm of his strumming, one or two of them off-beat and off key to the point of distraction. Zell took it in stride, glad they enjoyed his afternoon performances enough to give him their undivided attention while Edea enjoyed a few minutes of quiet in her study and gave the White SeeDs that looked after them a break from the organized chaos.

After a few weeks of moping and brooding, Zell's funk evaporated like pre-dawn fog burned off by sunlight. The guilt lingered, and he still suffered from the occasional nightmare, but he gradually came to terms with what he hoped was an isolated incident. For now, he was content to be here at the Orphanage, where little by little, his spirits lifted and he began to feel more like himself again.

Being around the kids helped. It was hard to stay down in the dumps when they demanded most of his attention, and they noticed when he was in danger of slipping back into a mood.

There was one boy in particular, one of three they picked up at port in southern Galbadia, who intrigued Zell. The kid was tall for his age, which was about six or so, and he wore thick glasses that magnified his dark brown eyes. His ears were too big and stuck out too far, and there were long, ugly scars along one mahogany-toned arm, like the scratches of some beast, but too clean to have been caused by anything but a blade.

His name was Micah, and Zell never once heard him speak. He didn't sing along with the others, and instead, watched Zell from the back row with liquid, unblinking brown eyes.

The others teased him for his silence and for his reluctance to join in their play. He didn't like to be touched, either, and would shrink whenever a well-meaning child attempted to include him or an adult offered a hug.

Whatever the boy endured before his arrival, it left deeper scars than the ones that showed on his skin.

Zell could certainly empathize.

He played a few more songs, read a story, and then it was time for their afternoon naps and quiet time, something Matron insisted on, likely for the sake of her own mental health. The constant motion and din of voices could be maddening without an hour or so of unbroken silence.

Normally, Zell took his own mental health break while the kids were resting and would go down to the beach to watch the waves crash against the rocks, but curiosity got the best of him. He sought Edea out in the kitchen, where she sat before a list of needed repairs for the house and the cost of each.

A lot of the minor work, Zell could do himself. All he needed were the materials, but there were a few things he couldn't do, and those were the most expensive.

He helped himself to the hot water on the stove and brewed a cup of tea before he joined her.

"Ready to go home?" she asked as he sat down and stirred the contents of his cup.

"Naw, not yet," he said, "but I wanted to ask you... About Micah."

Edea pushed the stack of estimates away and sat back in her chair. The way she looked at him was strange, almost calculating.

"What do you want to know?"

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know a lot," she said. "But his step-father was abusive, and... he saw some things no child should ever see."

"Like what?"

"His step-father murdered his mother," she said, matter of fact. "Micah was under the bed when it happened."

Zell's eyes misted over. He expected something ugly, but not that.

"Does he ever talk?"

"No" Edea said. "But he will, when he's ready."

"Poor kid," Zell murmured.

He wondered why some kids were born into loving families and others were screwed from the beginning. Zell got lucky. His Pa was a piece of work, but his Ma was a kind woman, and she'd loved him like he was her own.

Hyne, he missed her. Maybe that was half his problem. Missing the one woman in the world who had loved him, regardless of how bad me messed up.

"It's hard enough placing the older kids," Edea said distantly. "It's easier than it used to be. When you were little, my options were limited at the time because of how many displaced children there were after the war, but even now there aren't enough qualified people willing to take them in, especially the damaged ones. A child like Micah... It might be a long time before I find the right placement for him. He needs a lot of love."

Zell's heart went out to the kid and he wondered what it would take to draw him out enough that some family might see how deserving he was.

Edea focused on him and offered a tiny smile. "How are you, Zell?"

"I'm good," he said. "Better."

"Are you still having nightmares?"

Everyone knew of Zell's night terrors because he sometimes screamed himself awake. He wasn't alone on a ship full of broken kids who had bad dreams of their own, but he was the loudest.

"Sometimes," he said. "Not as bad as before."

Edea nodded and her gaze drifted to the doorway behind him. Beyond was the room she once shared with Cid, the place where Ellone and Seifer found him dead.

Until now, Zell hadn't spared even a thought on what happened here, or what Cid may or may not have done to himself, but as he watched her expression shift from her usual calm to grief, Zell wondered how she could stay here. Even if ghosts weren't real, his skin prickled at the thought that Cid might haunt this place.

It was plain that he haunted Edea, whether real or not.

"You miss him," Zell said.

"Yes," she said. "I miss him. Even though he was a damned fool..."

She blinked at the empty doorway and collected herself, back to business. For a few minutes, they discussed the repairs Zell could do, and he offered suggestions about ways to save money on materials through a few inexpensive short-cuts that were just as effective as the more expensive version, and then made plans to start work on the back wall, which was currently sealed off from the elements with a tarp.

That evening, Zell took a walk down the beach as thoughts of Cid and Micah and Squall tangled up together and formed a knot of doubt inside his head. The wind was stiff but warm, and the sea was tumultuous, but there was no sign of bad weather on the horizon. He watched the surf for a while, and as the sun began to set, he turned back for the house to help with dinner. It was hot dog night.

As he was about to climb the steps, he spied a kid's shoe, attached to a dark brown leg sticking out from behind a nearby rock. He paused as worry took hold and went to investigate.

Micah sat behind the rock, his cheeks wet with tears and his clothes soaked from the waist down from sitting half in a tidepool.

He sniffled when he looked up at Zell and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

"Hey," Zell said and crouched down beside him. "What are you doing out here?"

Eyes magnified by thick lenses blinked at him, but the boy didn't answer.

Zell sat a safe distance away and drew his knees up to his chest. He suspected he knew why Micah was out here and not inside with the others. It was the same reason Zell used to run away and hide.

"The others being mean to you?" he asked.

Micah blinked at him and nodded.

"Yeah," Zell said. "Sometimes kids can be mean, especially when you're different. I used to get picked on because I was smaller than everybody else. It sucked."

That piqued Micah's interest. He still said nothing, but the shutters behind his eyes lifted and he cocked his head at Zell.

"You know what I learned though? Bullies are cowards," Zell said. "The second you stand up to them, they run away. They can only bully you if you let them."

It was then that Zell noticed a bit of dried blood on the boy's lip.

"They hit you?"

Micah nodded.

"Okay," Zell said. "Here's what you do the next time they mess with you: you open your mouth and roar like a T-rexaur. Scream like you're crazy and flail your arms."

The corners of Micah's mouth lifted, almost a smile, but his expression was doubtful.

"I'm serious," Zell said. "Do it just like this:"

He stood, gave a roar of anger and flailed his arms like the tentacles of a berserked Malboro. It earned him the tiniest of giggles from the boy, so Zell continued until his whole body thrashed and the sounds he made were less T-rexaur-like and closer to that of the Zombies in the sewers of Deling City.

"Blleegghhaahhgghhh," Zell said and contorted his face into a twisted and comical sneer. "Ggggahhhhhahbbleeeggh!

Micah giggled uncontrollably behind his hand and Zell was pleased to be the first one so far to make him laugh.

"Now you try," Zell said.

Not only did this tactic work pretty well on bullies, speaking from experience, it was also fun. Zell long ago learned that if he wasn't in a position to fight back, if his attackers were human, they tended to back off if they thought he was nuts. And the nuttier, the better. Getting loud helped.

Micah didn't talk, but he could roar and growl, and he flailed around until the giggles overtook him again and his glasses fogged up from the effort.

"Feel better?" Zell asked as he crouched down in the sand again.

Micah nodded.

"Good," Zell said. "You hungry? We're late for dinner, and it's hot dog night."

As they climbed the steps, a small hand slipped into Zell's and held on tight.

Such a little thing, but it meant so much.


	29. Chapter 29

* * *

29

* * *

Winter melted into spring and with the warmer temperatures came the rain and storms Edea predicted. For a solid two weeks, it poured nearly every afternoon.

Zell didn't mind the weather so much, but the kids got spooked when the lightning was close and the power went out. A good deal of his time was spent consoling and concocting new games to play to keep them entertained and distracted.

The weather also delayed his progress on the repairs, but Edea seemed in no hurry to see them completed. He did what he could inside, entertained the kids and waited for the storms to pass.

He was never bored. If he wasn't fixing broken shingles and bad wiring, he played with the kids, and if not that, the White SeeDs were always game to play a hand of cards or go hunting for edible monsters. He ran every morning, trained, and otherwise stayed busy.

It wasn't the kind of busy that let him avoid his problems but the kind that was more fulfilling than anything. He worked through his lingering anger with physical activity, and found more comfort than he expected in the laughter of children.

Micah followed him everywhere when he could get away with it. It annoyed Edea when he wandered from his lessons, but Zell never minded his company. He was quiet, helpful, and very interested in the repair work.

One night, nearly a month after the last time, Zell woke screaming with the dregs of a nightmare about being tangled in a spiderweb still fresh in his mind. His heart thumped hard against his ribs and his body was damp with sweat.

With a shudder and a gasp, he reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. Something moved beyond the partially opened bedroom door, and for a second, Zell convinced himself it was Thalia Blackheart, come to exact her revenge. Frozen with fear, he watched the dark space beyond the door for any sign he was right.

The door swung inward on its hinges and Zell jumped to his feet, ready to fight.

Twin disks reflected moonlight and Zell breathed a sigh of relief.

Micah.

"You should be in bed, kiddo," he croaked. "It's late."

Micah drifted further into the room and perched himself on the edge of the bed. Even in the dark, Micah's question was clear.

"I had a nightmare," Zell said and sat down beside him. "I'm okay."

Micah, who rarely touched anyone and who never let anyone touch him, leaned over and gave Zell a one-armed hug. Zell hugged back, and the kid didn't retreat or freak out.

"You have bad dreams, too, huh?" Zell asked.

Micah nodded.

"Yeah," Zell said. "They suck, don't they?"

Zell yawned and flopped back into his pillow. He hoped tonight wouldn't be one of those nights where he couldn't get back to sleep.

"You should go back to your bed, kiddo," Zell said. "Get some sleep."

Zell closed his eyes. Through the open window came the distant crash of the waves against the rocks. Beneath him, the bed shifted and he assumed Micah was on his way back to his own bunk, but then felt the warm press of his small body against his side.

"Okay," Zell said. "But just for a little while, then you gotta go back."

When Zell opened is eyes again, pre-dawn light was at the window and Edea's voice called out into the hall.

"This isn't funny, Micah! Where are you?"

Zell sat up, alarmed until he realized Micah was curled up, sound asleep beside him.

"He's in here," Zell called back.

Edea pushed the door open and pressed a hand to her chest.

"Thank Hyne," she said. "I was beginning to worry."

Zell roused Micah from sleep, retrieved the boy's glasses from the nightstand and fixed them on his face.

"You shouldn't bother Zell like this," Edea said gently. "You have your own bed."

Micah shrugged and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He yawned and stood and Zell noticed his pajama pants were too short.

"Go on," Edea prompted. "It's almost time for breakfast."

Zell got out of bed and pulled on a T-shirt from his suitcase. Edea hovered in the doorway.

"Has he done this before?" she asked.

"Naw," Zell said. "First time. I think he heard me screaming."

"He seems very fond of you."

"He's a good kid," Zell said. "Coming out of his shell a little, I think."

"I think that's because of you."

"Maybe he's just had enough time to distance himself from it," Zell said.

"Are you talking about Micah or yourself?" she asked. A small smile played over her lips.

"Maybe both," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull on a pair of socks. "Being away from it, it's not as hard. You know, perspective and all that."

"Yet you still wake up screaming."

Zell shrugged and leaned his elbows against his knees.

"At least it's not every night anymore."

"Hmm," she agreed. "Just remember, Zell. Sometimes the cure for past hurts actually _is_ love, and it doesn't always have to be the romantic sort."

He didn't get her meaning and she didn't elaborate.

With that little nugget of wisdom, she left him to ponder it alone.

* * *

Ari's second birthday dawned bright and warm, and Squall woke early to start preparations for the small party that afternoon.

They invited friends and family, a handful of kids from Ari's daycare class and a few of Stella's friends to keep her company. Quistis was expected to arrive on the ferry from Dollet in a few hours, and who knew if Irvine would make an appearance or not.

Squall mowed the yard, put up Selphie's decorations and cursed her over-use of glitter, something she promised she wouldn't do. Glitter was hell to get out of the carpet and due to Stella's mutual love of the cursed substance, Squall frequently found it on himself, whether or not he touched it.

He still loved being home. True, the household chores and budgeting and grocery shopping were mundane in comparison to his days as a SeeD, and the laundry was a never-ending battle, but he would not trade the time he got with the kids for anything.

Seifer liked to tease him, but Seifer could say what he wanted – there was nothing unmanly about it. Housework was real work, and at times, looking after the kids took as much mental stamina and prowess to survive as a long, drawn-out campaign.

Ellone arrived around ten to help decorate and dragged Seifer along for the ride. Laguna showed up shortly thereafter, his arms loaded down with gifts for both Ari and Stella. He wore a big grin as he breezed into the living room and dumped the presents on the activity table.

Rinoa returned to the house at noon with Quistis, who brought Xu with her. That was a surprise, but not unwelcome. The last time he saw Xu was just prior to his capture, and while they were not friends, they shared a solid working relationship for years, and he respected her skill and experience.

"You look like a pile of re-fried chocobo crap, Leonhart," she said by way of greeting.

"Should have seen me six months ago."

"Well, at least you had all that SeeD training to help you stay alive."

That wasn't the only thing that kept him alive, but he nodded his agreement.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you made it out," she said. "I'm also glad Esthar took care of her. Saves me the trouble."

As far as the world knew, it was Esthar Special forces that apprehended Thalia Blackheart, to spare Ellone the notoriety. She didn't want her name in the papers, she just wanted to be left in peace.

When Irvine arrived, half an hour late with a bottle of whiskey and a stuffed chocobo for Ari, the party got into full swing. A handful of toddlers ran in all directions in the back yard, herded by Selphie, who took pains to ignore Irvine. This time, it looked like she was serious.

The only person missing was Zell, and Squall wished he was there. Zell would be fine in time, and he was alive, as evidenced by the occasional postcard, but Squall never expected him to stay gone this long. He hoped the time away would do him some good.

He was surprised again when Rinoa's father showed up, dressed down in jeans and a short-sleeve shirt not unlike the ones Laguna favored.

Caraway wasn't able to make it to Stella's birthday, and only spoke to Rinoa when she called him first. Squall understood his job kept him busy, but from experience, he also understood it was possible to find the time, if it really mattered.

Both kids acted like they didn't know him. Stella eyed him with suspicion and Ari started to cry the second Caraway lifted him into his arms. Squall could have felt vindicated that neither child welcomed their seldom-seen grandfather, but it just made him sad. It would be easy to say it was Caraway's loss, but the kids were the ones that suffered.

Squall rescued the sobbing Ari from Caraway's grasp and he stopped crying the minute he was secured against Squall's side. He ferried his son back to the other children, where Ari forgot all about the stranger in their midst. Caraway followed, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jeans.

"Times like these, I wish I was a different man," Caraway said. "There are never enough hours in the day."

"Try harder," Squall said. "Or just stay away if you can't make your grandkids a priority."

"You don't understand."

Squall fixed him with a level stare, crossed his arms over his chest and waited for him to continue.

"Work - "

"Is an excuse," Squall interrupted. "One I don't buy. I stood in your shoes. I could have said the same thing, but I chose to be there instead."

"And where were you when my daughter was pregnant the second time, alone, and grieving?"

Squall gritted his teeth.

"Where were _you_?"

Caraway looked away, to the lawn where Ari pushed a dump truck through the grass.

"I could have done more," he said. "I should have."

"You should have," Squall agreed, but without anger. "Rinoa needed you, and you weren't there. _They_ needed you, and you weren't there."

Out by the swing set, Laguna was ambushed by Stella, Selphie, and a trio of girls from Stella's class, all armed with over-sized water pistols. They hosed him down and he flailed and screamed and slid to the ground, where he flopped and thrashed like a dying fish under heavy streams of water.

"I know you didn't want Rin to marry a man like me," Squall said. "I used to worry that you were right. It turns out, I'm _not_ like you. I could never pretend other things are more important than my kids are."

He turned back to Caraway, who watched Laguna. His disdain was as clear as the cloudless sky above.

"I'm going to ask you respectfully to either step up and be in their lives," Squall said, "or don't bother at all. You can't be their grandfather only when it suits you."

Caraway cut his eyes to Squall. "Your father -"

Squall's temper flared and he stepped closer to Caraway. He pointed to the still flailing and now very wet Laguna Loire, who lay on the ground, laughing as Ella unloaded the contents of a second water pistol onto his chest.

"He's spending time with his granddaughter," Squall said, "and you're standing here making excuses. You don't get to judge him."

Caraway withered before Squall's eyes. Three years ago, this would be a coup, but now it fell flat, an empty victory.

"It's not too late for you to have a relationship with them," Squall said. "If you really want one."

Weary of the conversation, Squall walked away without waiting for Caraway's retort. He wasn't interested in whatever excuse Caraway might give. Life was too short and too precious for excuses and nothing he said would persuade Caraway to change if he was determined to let everything else get in the way.

In the kitchen, he filled a glass with water from the tap and drank it down. Quistis' laughter spilled in from outside, Rinoa's voice, Stella's squeals of delight. Forget Caraway. There were plenty of other things that mattered more.

As he refilled his glass, a fat, brown, hairy spider sprinted across the counter top. Squall went still as it crawled up the wall. His skin prickled, his insides turned to liquid, and the noise of the party, just seconds ago a comfort, became a thunderous din of shouts and screams.

It was just a harmless wood spider, but he fled the room on shaky legs as a cold sweat broke out all over his body.

He trekked up the stairs and into the bedroom, in search of a place to hide – from the spider, from the irrational fear of something that couldn't touch him anymore, and worst of all, fear of judgment from their guests – and he crawled into the closet, took refuge behind the skirt of one of Rinoa's ball gowns leftover from SeeD functions, and closed his eyes.

His moments of panic were few and far between now, but this kind of waking-nightmare was always worse than the dreams that startled him awake in the dark. Dreams were just dreams, and he woke knowing they were dreams, but in broad daylight, with the ghost-sensation of things crawling on him, it wasn't always so easy to tell.

In his chest, his heart thundered and he braced for an impact that didn't come. There was no pain, no violence, no sound but his racing pulse and the occasional peal of laughter from below.

Squall counted backwards from 100, measured his breaths, and concentrated on the things that were real.

It was Ari's birthday. He was two.

He was home. His friends and family were downstairs.

Thalia Blackheart was dead.

He was alive and safe and she couldn't touch him.

"Squall? Are you in here?"

His cheeks warmed and he held his breath. If she found him here, hiding behind her skirt like a child, he wouldn't be able to look her in the eye. It was pathetic. He was a grown man, cowering from imaginary monsters in a closet.

"Squall?"

Her voice was too close and a rustle at the mouth of the closet said he'd been found.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked. "What happened?"

The dress shifted and his shield from the world disappeared and was replaced by Rinoa's face.

"Can I come in?" she asked. "Or do you want to be alone?"

Squall couldn't answer, but held out a hand to her. She took it and pushed shoes out of the way to clear a spot to sit.

"We're about to cut the cake," she said. "Do you want us to wait for you? Or should I save you a piece?"

"I just need a minute."

"Okay."

She didn't ask questions. She didn't pretend to understand. She sat beside him and held his hand while the party continued downstairs.

"I'm sorry," Squall said after a while. "I panicked."

Rinoa rested her head against his arm and clasped his bicep. "About what?"

"...spider. In the kitchen."

Squall expected laughter or at least a promise that the big, bad spiders wouldn't hurt him, but she didn't say anything for almost a minute.

"So, you need me to handle spider extermination from now on," she said.

He folded his arms over his knees and leaned his chin against them. He was too ashamed to admit it, but the answer was yes.

"Pathetic, huh?"

"No," she said. "Perfectly understandable. But, you might have to settle for spider removal instead. I don't like them much, but I always feel bad about killing them."

She smiled and stroked his back and massaged the base of his neck. Her touch chased away his irrational fear.

"I'll make you a deal," she said. "If you can take care of the occasional flying cockroach, then I'm more than happy to handle the spiders."

Squall smiled back.

"Deal," he said.

* * *

Zell stood at the bow of the White SeeD ship and watched Balamb's coastline come into view. He harbored mixed feelings about going home, and a great deal of fear about facing his friends again, but it was time. As much as he enjoyed the kids and the ocean and even the dilapidated Orphanage, he couldn't stay away forever. It was time to say goodbye and be a responsible adult again.

He went below deck and gathered his belongings, carefully collected all the crafts and drawings bestowed upon him by the kids and secured them in his suitcase. They would arrive in less than an hour and he wanted to get his goodbyes out of the way as quick as possible, like tearing the bandage off a wound.

Up on deck, he accepted hugs and more gifts, including a good bottle of homemade hooch one of the White SeeDs brewed below deck, and repeatedly checked the horizon to ensure his home was still waiting for him.

As the ship angled into the slip at the end of the dock, Zell realized there was a kid he hadn't gotten to say his goodbyes to. He searched the small crowd for Micah's face among them, but he was curiously absent.

He left his bags and returned to the cabin in search of the boy. Micah wasn't in the galley, nor the bunks and a quick search of the activity rooms turned up nothing. Finally, he checked the SeeD quarters.

Micah lay on the bed in Zell's abandoned bunk, his glasses on the nightstand and his face buried in the pillow, sobbing his heart out.

His heart aching, Zell sat down beside him and sighed.

"What's up?" Zell asked, not that he expected a verbal answer. "You're not going to say goodbye?"

Micah shook his head, his face still pressed deep into bedding.

"Can I at least get a hug or a high-five or something?"

Micah shook his head so hard, his whole body shook with it.

"Come on, kiddo, I've got to go home now."

The kid wailed into the pillow and Zell's eyes burned. He never meant for the kid to get so attached, but the truth was, Zell never expected to care so much either. It wasn't so different from how he felt about Ella and Ari, and it caused him physical pain to walk away.

"I'll stop by and see you before you guys leave, okay?"

Micah sat up, wiped his red-rimmed eyes and said: "I don't want you to leave."

Hearing Micah speak for the first time surprised Zell into a smile, in spite of how painful this was for the both of them.

"I know, kiddo, but this is where I live, and it's time for me to go home."

The boy threw his arms around Zell's neck and held on like he would never, ever let him loose.

"Don't go."

Zell hugged him back and didn't even try to stop his own tears.

"I'll come see you tomorrow," Zell said, his voice gone hoarse. "Okay? Maybe Matron will let us hang out at the park."

Micah pulled away and threw himself back into the pillow. Zell sniffled as he patted his back and tried his best to reassure the kid everything would be fine.

"I gotta go, buddy," Zell said.

When Micah didn't respond, Zell stood, heart heavy, and wiped his eyes.

"Bye, kiddo."

Up on deck he gathered his bags as the gangplank was lowered. The familiar harbor was the same as he left it, but it felt different. It even smelled different.

He said his final goodbyes and waved to the kids from the dock. Then, he fished his keys from his pocket and made the short trek from the harbor to his house and tried not to bawl his eyes out along the way.

With a heavy heart, he unlocked his front door and switched on the light in the kitchen. It was cleaner than when he left, and someone, either Ellone or Selphie, had cleaned out the fridge and kept his plants alive. Still, it smelled stale and he opened all the windows on the first floor to let in some fresh air in the hopes that it would clear out the old and lift his spirits.

It was too quiet. Too empty. After six months of constant noise and motion, he was less comfortable coming to a full stop than he expected.

He carried his belongings upstairs and stood in the doorway of his old bedroom. His feelings about it hadn't changed. He could not spend another night in that bed.

Unable to stay any longer, he carried his bags to the downstairs bedroom, grabbed his keys and walked the block up to the Garage to check in on things. It was best to stay moving, to stay busy until this once familiar world didn't feel so alien anymore.

Cyril, the former SeeD he left in charge in his absence, was busy cleaning a carburetor on the worktable. Loud rock music blared from the speakers of the small boom box on the shelf above, but the place was clean, and it looked like there was work lined up for him.

"I didn't know you were back," Cyril said when he noticed Zell watching. "When did you get in?"

"Just now," Zell said. "How have things been?"

"Real busy," Cyril said. "Got about eight lawn mowers in need of fixing and a couple of outboard boat motors, a transmission leak and a head gasket replacement."

"Awesome," Zell said. "I'll get started on that here in a bit. Gonna take a look at the books and then jump in and get us caught up."

"You gonna keep me on?" Cyril asked.

"As long as we've got work," Zell said. "And you know, provided you didn't rob me blind while I was gone."

Cyril chuckled and returned to his project while Zell sat down in the office and looked over the ledgers. Everything looked to be in order, and it even seemed there was a decent profit. It was the warmer weather, he guessed. Boats and lawn maintenance equipment and whatnot all bound to come out of the woodwork.

He spent his afternoon with his hands coated in grease and his mind far away from anything that hurt. This time, he really was avoiding.

It was full dark by the time he closed up shop and made his way home to his empty, quiet house and his parents ghosts and the painful memory of what never happened upstairs. At the kitchen table, he cracked open the bottle of hooch and drank by himself and wondered if the most logical course of action was to get back on the ship and stay there for good.

But he would only be running away. He needed closure, to face things head-on, and deal with the consequences first.

Still, he avoided getting in touch with anyone for two full days and stole back and forth from the Garage to his house like a thief in the night. He didn't want to face anyone until he was ready, though the longer he put it off, the tougher it was to come up with a way to do that.

He moved into the downstairs bedroom and cleaned out his old one, stored away his childhood belongings and replaced the bed with a new one. He felt like burning the old mattress in the back yard, but he doubted the Balamb Fire Department or his neighbors would appreciate the bonfire. Instead, he hauled it to the dump, said good riddance and went back to work.

He didn't go see the kids. It was too hard to make himself do it, too hard not to give in and leave for good.

The morning before the White SeeD ship was set to sail, there came a knock on his door as he drank his coffee and planned out his day.

This time, Edea's visit was not a surprise.

"Miss me already?" he asked to keep the mood light and his own despair from showing.

"I always miss my wards when they're gone," she said. "Even the ones who are grown."

"What's up?" he asked. "Coffee?"

"No, thank you. I came to ask a favor."

"Something broken that needs fixed before you head out?"

"No, nothing's broken, really," she said. "It's about Micah."

Zell's heart beat out a painful cadence at the mention of the kid. He sighed and sat as his hope that the boy would get over it faded.

"He hasn't stopped crying since you left," she said.

"You want me to swing by and see him before you go?"

"That might do more harm than good," she said. "I know it's a lot to ask, but, I was wondering if you might consider fostering him for a while."

That was not what Zell expected to hear. It was not something that even crossed his mind until now.

"Me? I'm not really your idea of an ideal home for a kid," he said. "You know, bachelor with anger issues and all."

"Normally, no, you wouldn't be," she said. "But I've seen enough to know that you are ideal for him. I can honestly say I can't think of a better foster situation and I know the two of you would be good for each other."

Zell blinked at her and clasped his coffee mug in both hands.

"You don't have to decide right this second," she said. "Give it some thought."

"But -" Zell began, and then broke off because he wasn't sure what he wanted to say, or if there was even an argument here.

He could think of a thousand reasons why not, but they were all excuses, and he was aware that Edea was manipulating him, of how she used his own soft spot against him.

But that didn't mean she was wrong.

"Okay," he said. "All right. We'll give it a try."

* * *

Squall parked the car outside the Garage, freed Ari from his car seat and wondered if Zell came home with he White SeeD ship or if he'd gone off on his own. No one mentioned seeing him, and he hadn't called to say he was back. If he was, he kept a low profile.

The Garage was open and music spilled out from inside, along with the sound of a drill motor and a metallic banging. Cyril sat bent over a worktable in the back, said drill in hand but waved when Squall entered.

"Looking for Zell?" he called.

"Is he here?"

"Office," Cyril said and pointed at the office door with the drill.

Squall approached the Plexiglas pass through window, where Zell was tearing apart a small motor on his desk. He was deeply tanned and his hair was a much lighter shade of blonde than Squall remembered. Beside him, a boy about Stella's age doodled on a sheet of paper.

"Unka Dood!" Ari cried. "Hey, dood!"

Squall grinned at his son and stayed the little fists pounding against his chest and head. Zell, startled, stared back at them and his tanned face went pale. He smiled at Ari and avoided Squall's gaze.

"Heya, little dude," Zell greeted. "Man, you're getting big."

He stood, wiped his hands on his coveralls and exited the office. Ari leaned toward him, his hands outstretched and Squall let him go into Zell's arms.

"Missed you, kid," he said. "How you doin'?"

"He asked for you," Squall said. "Every day."

Zell hugged Ari tight, received a sloppy kiss on the cheek and turned to Squall with downcast eyes.

"So, uh, what can I do for you?"

"Oil change," Squall said. "Think the radiator might be leaking."

"Yeah?" Zell said. "That's stuff you know how to do yourself, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but my wrists don't work like they used to," he said. "Can't get the oil filter off."

"Oh, right," Zell said and returned Ari to him. "Yeah, I can take care of that for you. Give me a couple hours to check it out?"

"That's fine," Squall said. "Got some errands I need to run anyway."

He shifted Ari to his other hip as the boy in the office peeked out the door through thick-lensed glasses.

"Hired some extra help, huh?"

"That's, um, Micah," Zell said. "He's gonna stay with me for a while."

Squall couldn't have been more surprised if Zell had told him he was actually a chocobo with three hind legs. He glanced from the boy to Zell and wished he could think of something to say. After all those months of wanting closure, now that he got his chance, the words wouldn't come.

"Why don't you two come by for dinner later," Squall said. "I know Rin and Stella would love to see you."

"It's Stella now, huh?"

"Yeah," Squall said. "They grow up too fast."

Micah slid up against Zell's side and stared at Squall.

"Micah, this is my good friend Squall," Zell said. "He's quiet, like you."

Micah waved, but didn't say anything.

"Hello, Micah," Squall said. "Say Hi, Ari."

"Hewooo!" Ari said. "We go shoppin!"

Zell grinned and pinched Ari's chin. "We don't want to hold you up."

"It's fine," Squall said. "So, dinner?"

"Yeah, sure," Zell said.

"Great. Say, around six or so?"

"We'll be there."

"Good," Squall said. "Call me when the car's ready?"

"Will do."

Squall turned for the door and hitched Ari a little higher on his hip.

"Hey Squall? I'm really sorry. About what I did."

Squall faced him and saw a world of regret in his friend's face. It didn't take a genius to figure out he'd been carrying it around for months. Squall didn't begrudge him the time away, but he wished for the hundredth time that they'd gotten the chance to clear the air before this.

"You don't need to apologize," Squall said. "I figured out what happened a long time ago. It's over and done, and there's no need for you to feel guilty about it."

Zell stared at him and for a second, it looked like he might cry.

"I appreciate everything you did to look after them while I was gone," Squall promised. "I owe you one."

"But I hit you."

"Yeah," Squall said. "And it hurt."

"Sorry," Zell mumbled. "I wish I could take it back."

Squall nodded and patted Zell's arm.

"I forgive you, okay?" Squall said. "Is that what you need to hear?"

Zell sniffled, drew in a deep breath and threw his arms around Squall's middle.

"Yeah, that's what I needed to hear."

* * *

"I swear to Hyne, if you ever take off on us like that again, I will murder you dead!"

If the grimace on Zell's face was any indication, Selphie's hug crushed bones and bruised flesh and otherwise cut off his circulation. Rinoa gently disengaged Selphie from him and drew him into her own, less painful but almost as fierce embrace.

"Ditto what Selphie said," she whispered. "I missed you so much."

Zell let her go and stepped back, sheepish and slump shouldered.

"Missed you guys," he said. "Just had some stuff, you know? Needed to sort myself out."

Rinoa looked him over, then to the child at his side. He dropped a protective hand to the boy's shoulder and flashed a lopsided smile.

"Welcome home," she said. "We're making hot dogs, in your honor. Do you like hot dogs, Micah?"

"...yes."

"He loves 'em," Zell said proudly. "Maybe even more than I do."

"Well good," Rinoa said. "Dad's about to light the grill and Laguna should be here in a while. He's got some baby-kissing, hand-shaking campaign thing first, but he'll be here."

No one was more surprised than Rinoa when her father decided, out of the blue, to retire to spend more time with his family. He hadn't made the move to Balamb the way Laguna did, and didn't plan to, but he spent more weekends than not visiting and getting to know the kids. They warmed to him by degrees, Ari especially, but Stella remained a little distant.

Laguna, on the other hand, surprised her by staying put. He was dead set on becoming Balamb's next mayor, and from the looks of it, would win by a landslide. He might be an outsider, but people really did love him, and his plans to turn the vacant Garden into a school of technology were extremely popular, especially after Squall got involved in the development of a curriculum.

Stella bounded into the room, glared at Zell, and promptly burst into tears.

"You were gone forever!" she shouted. "I thought you died, like dad."

Zell dropped to his knees, laughing but with a great deal of sorrow in his eyes and opened his arms to her.

"Come here," he said. "I missed you."

"I'm mad at you," Stella said. Her lip jutted out in a pout and Rinoa suppressed her laughter. "I'm really, really mad at you."

"I know," Zell said. "Give me a hug anyway."

She did and demanded to know why he left, where he'd been and why it took him so long to come back.

"Sometimes, you just need to put yourself in time-out," Zell said when she let go.

"Who are you?" she asked Micah, who stood aside, watching the scene with wide eyes and an uncertain expression. "I'm Stella."

She didn't wait for his answer and instead, took him by the hand and dragged him to the living room.

"She's going to scare the daylights out of him," Rinoa said.

"He'll be fine," Zell said. "It'll do him some good to play with someone who doesn't make fun of him for not talking."

"She won't mind that at all."

"I'm counting on it."

Squall popped his head out of the downstairs bathroom, his face bleached of color.

"Spider," he said. "Removal required."

"I'm on it," she said and ducked into the small room, where she chased a banana spider around the vanity with an empty toilet paper tube until it was captured, and saw it out to the front porch, where she released it to the wild.

When she returned, her father, Zell, and Squall stood on the back porch, each with a beer in hand as they watched the kids play in the yard.

She hung back, and her heart sang with love for the three most important men in her life, and for now, all was as it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short epilogue to come.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, subscribing and bookmarking, but most of all thank you to those that left comments. Your encouragement is what has kept me going, so thank you guys for sticking with me!

* * *

30

* * *

Ellone stood on a cliff on the south-eastern side of Balamb, an urn in her hands. It was a plain, unadorned cylinder made of aluminum, but Seifer supposed it was a fitting vessel for Thalia's remains.

Not that he believed she deserved even that much, but Ellone insisted it was something she needed to do, for closure.

Seifer hung back and waited, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his cargo shorts. He didn't get why this mattered so much to her. Ellone didn't owe anyone forgiveness, least of all Thalia Blackheart.

But if it was something she needed and wanted to do, Seifer was game to play along. After all, being forgiven when you didn't deserve it was one of the most humbling things in the world.

He didn't hear what Ellone said to the ashes, but he didn't need to. That was between Ellone and Thalia.

A strong wind whipped the skirt of Ellone's bright green sun dress around her legs and lifted strands of her hair, and she whispered things he couldn't and did not want to hear.

She opened the urn and tipped the contents into the breeze, where they would catch and return to land or sea. Unusually fat grey-white flakes spiraled away on the wind, twisted, coiled, and began to... _flutter_. Seifer imagined poison seeping into the grass, a plague upon mankind.

But they were only ashes.

Seifer squinted his eyes against the sun and dropped a hand to the back of Ellone's neck.

"About done?" he asked, not impatient, just spooked.

Ellone nodded at the sea. The ashes fluttered on the breeze.

All the hair on Seifer's arm stood up.

The ashes were not ashes, but pale, grey moths.

"What the...?"

Ellone covered her mouth and her eyes widened as the moths flitted and whirled around them in a blizzard of whisper-flapping wings. Some were misshapen, deformed. Human fingers, instead of legs, human eyes inset into powdery wings, eight eyes like spiders. Bat wings, extra antennae, scales, fur. The more Seifer looked, the more wrong he saw.

"I bet you thought you were safe, didn't you?"

* * *

Squall patted the soil around freshly planted tomatoes, on his knees in the dirt. It was Rinoa's idea, but she possessed a certified black thumb of death. As hard as she tried to keep plants alive, none of them survived. It wasn't due to a lack of care, but rather too  _much_.

A garden was a good idea. It gave Squall something to do, something new to learn and study, and it would provide plenty of vegetables fresh off the plant.

Besides tomatoes, there were cucumbers, peppers, green beans and a variety of fresh herbs. Squall figured, as the primary cook in the house, anything that could spice up his limited menu was a good thing.

Nearby, Ari sat in the grass and banged on a small plastic tool bench with a small plastic hammer.

"I fix," Ari said. "Fix da thing."

Squall set his spade aside and joined Ari in the grass. It never got old, being home.

Ari's face scrunched up, and he cast the hammer aside. He held his arm out and peered at a red and black speck.

"Oh!" he said. "Bug!"

Squall leaned closer to inspect it, only half worried it was something that would send him running to the house in fear.

"That's a ladybug," Squall said.

"Dadybug?"

"Ladybug."

The ladybug crawled toward Ari's hand and he grunted at it.

"Squish," he said. "Squish da bug."

"No squishing," Squall said. "Ladybugs are good bugs. They eat the aphids on your mommy's roses."

Not that Ari knew or cared about aphids, but he looked at Squall in wonder and nodded like he understood every word and why it was important.

That never got old, either. Being looked at like he created the world. It made up for the times when they looked at him like he was the devil for not allowing glitter in the bathtub, or snacks of mulch and pebbles.

"Ohhhh," he said. "Dis da good bug?"

"That's right. We don't squish good bugs."

Squall reached out and let it crawl onto his hand. When it reached his fingertips, it lifted shiny red elytrons speckled with black and flew away.

"Buhbye!" Ari cried. "Buhbye, dadybug!"

Squall lifted Ari into his lap and gave him a squeeze. He could not remember being this innocent himself, nor this loved, and he was glad Ari would never have to doubt it. He kissed the top of Ari's head and lifted him as he pushed to his feet.

"How about we go inside and have a snack?"

"Coogies?"

"How about some animal crackers?" Squall said. "Technically, they're not cookies, so your mommy can't be mad, right?"

"Ead dem awll, de amina cackers."

Squall smiled to himself. Ari, for as quiet as he could be, could also be quite the talker when he was in the mood.

Inside, the house was cool, and he seated Ari in his high chair, poured juice into a sippy cup, and offered Ari a handful of animal crackers along with it. Ari ate with gusto as Squall poured himself a glass of water and took out a pack of chicken to thaw.

The rumble of an engine tore Squall's attention away from dinner prep, and he went to the front door to peek out the window. Zell's car was parked in the driveway, right on schedule.

Stella burst in through the front door and dumped her bag in the foyer. Zell and Micah trailed behind her, all smiles as Squall let them inside.

"Race you to the swings," Stella said to Micah.

"Woah," Squall said. "Snack first."

"Fine," she said and added a dramatic eye-roll. "I'm not really hungry, though."

She always said that. If she skipped the snack, she would beg for something twenty minutes before dinner.

Squall herded the kids into the kitchen and served peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, while Zell poured juice. At the table, Stella greeted her brother with a kiss and a pinch on the nose.

"Lella, I got da dadybug, it go fly!"

"Neat! Ladybugs are good luck."

"Dey da goodbug."

"Have a good day at school?" Squall asked as Zell sat, reached for a banana and peeled it.

"Yep. We had recess all day. It was awesome!"

Squall frowned. Maybe he missed a notice about an activity day or forgot to put it on the calendar.

"Got homework?"

"No," she said. "I don't have to do it anymore. Mrs. Eckland said so."

Squall's frown deepened and he joined her at the table. He exchanged a glance with Zell, who shrugged. Micah was a grade below Stella. They didn't share teachers except at recess.

"What do you mean, you don't have to do it anymore?"

Stella popped a bite of her sandwich in her mouth and chewed.

"It's just a thing I can do," she said.

A strange, uneasy feeling came over him. He stared at his daughter and was unable to determine if she was just telling a story borne from a vivid imagination, or if her words implied something more sinister.

"A thing you can do?"

"Yep. It's really cool," she said. "All I have to do is think about a thing and it happens."

Squall's mouth went dry. His palms began to sweat.

The room filled with thousands of moths and butterflies. Their wings brushed against Squall's cheeks and landed in Zell's hair. Ari laughed and clapped his hands.

Squall met Stella's steady gaze across the table.

Her eyes were the color of mercury.

- _ **end**_ -


End file.
